Fatal Fury Fan Fiction ❯ Fatal Fury - The Vengeful Spirits ❯ Chapter Three - One for the Road ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

All characters are the property of SNK/Playmore. I don't own them, the video games, or the anime. "Gypsy" is written by Stevie Nicks, and is the copyright of Warner Brothers. I'm posting this fic for free, and make no money off of it.

Chapter Three: One For the Road

South Town – The Pao Pao Cafe

She is dancing away from you now
She was just a wish
She was just a wish
And her memory is all that is left for you now

You see you're a...

The music from the jukebox stopped abruptly as Terry Bogard located the plug, and yanked it from the outlet. He then rose to his feet and pumped the air triumphantly with his fist.

"You break it, you buy it, Terry!" Shouted the darkly-tanned man with the goatee who was working behind the bar.

"Damn thing was broken before I did that, Richard," Terry shot back. "Every time I come in here, it's always playing that same song. I hate that song, it's depressing."

Richard Meyer laughed at him. "Well, if you know a way I can get some more regulars, maybe I can afford to get it fixed."

Terry started to make his way through the smoky haze of the cafe, weaving around the tables, about half of which were occupied, until he reached the bar. "Well, I hate to tell you this, my friend, but you're about to lose a lot more regulars over the next several weeks. Three shots of Jim Beam, please." He held up three fingers for emphasis as he slid onto the stool.

Richard thought it was an odd request, but knew better than to question a long-time customer, and started to line up the shot glasses. "When did you get the ability to see the future?" He asked Terry.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who doesn't read a paper," Terry said with a laugh. "Apparently, our honorable new mayor has decided to cut out this city's heart by banning all street fighting. I'll be leaving soon, while I still can. Wouldn't be surprised if most of the other fighters in South Town decide not to stay, now that they have no reason. And how many of those fighters come here when they feel like getting food poisoning?"

Richard found the bottle on the shelf behind him, and shook his head as he started to fill the glasses. "Most of 'em. You know, I'm glad you're getting out, Bogard. Every time you come in here, you have bad news. Why don't you try taking a cruise or something, lighten up a bit?"

"I'm a man of simple pleasures, Richard," Terry said as he raised the first shot glass. "These are for the three loves of my life. This one is to Lily, my Queen of South Town." He knocked the shot back, slammed the glass upside down on the bar, and picked up the second one. "This one is for Sulia, my angel whose wings were clipped far too soon." He raised the shot, knocked that one back as well, placed the empty alongside its companion.

He paused for a moment, as if contemplating the third shot. Then he licked his lips and said: "And this last one is to my third lady love, the art of the fight. I thought she'd never leave me, but if I stay here, she will. So I have to continue my romance somewhere else. There's no reason for me to stick around." He raised the glass, but before he could bring it to his lips, he felt Richard put a hand on his wrist.

"Wait," the bearded man said. "Let me join you for that one." He poured his own shot of bourbon and clinked it against Terry's. "To the fight," Richard echoed, and they both drank. As Richard started to pick up the empty glasses, he said: "You know, maybe with the way things are changing, I should sell this place."

"Or turn it into a museum," said Terry. "I think some of the food back there was actually eaten by cavemen."

They shared a laugh over that, and then Terry rose from his seat, dropped some money on the bar, and tipped his cap at Richard. "Stay out of trouble," he said.

Richard nodded politely. "I'd wish you the same thing, but we both know that's impossible. Happy trails, Terry."

"We'll see," said Terry, and he exited the cafe into the dull neon haze of night. He wasn't drunk, but feeling just slightly pleasant, and for a moment he was trying to remember where he had parked on the almost deserted street. Then he heard an all too familiar sound nearby.

He took a left from the cafe and ran down the sidewalk for a few blocks, until he came to the entrance of an alleyway. He peered into the dimness of it, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw Detective Mary Ryan fighting with three very angry-looking men.

They were doing their best to surround her, but she seemed to be aware of this, and kept doing her best to circle and keep them off her flank. Her steps were light but precisely measured, like a dancer's. How does she move so nimbly in those boots? Terry wondered. He stepped into the alley as quietly as possible, mesmerized by what he was seeing, in spite of his brain screaming for him not to be.

As Mary had done the other night, she was holding back, waiting for one of her opponents to make the first move. It didn't take long. One of the attackers launched a kick at her midsection, which Mary dodged by swiveling her upper body to the right, the foot missing her by inches. She then grabbed his ankle and swung him bodily around like a hammer, slamming him into the second attacker. They both went down, dazed but not out of the fight yet.

The third man had taken advantage of the opportunity to get behind her, tried to trap her in a bear hug. As soon as Mary felt his arms around her, she leaned forward and bent her knees, bringing the man forward along with her. This gave her enough space to position her left leg behind his. Grabbing his right thigh, she then jerked him off balance. The man fell on his side, and Mary turned and delivered a swift kick to his ribs. The man rolled backward, gasping for air.

Okay, now I'm impressed, Terry thought to himself.

The first two attackers had recovered and were trying to double team her. Mary was forced to focus all her attention on them as she dodged their attacks. She did not see that the third man had regained his feet and was sneaking up behind her, but Terry did.

"Fun's over," Terry said softly to himself, and sprinted towards the man as quietly as he could. Right before the third attacker was about to come at Mary from behind, Terry closed the distance between them and delivered a roundhouse kick that struck the man in the left side of his torso and sent him slamming against the wall.

"What the..." Mary half-turned with her fist cocked, relaxed it slightly when she saw Terry Bogard standing there, but only slightly.

"Bogard!" She snapped. "Why the hell are you interfering in my operation?"

"Is that what I was doing?" Terry asked with a shrug. "I thought I was helping you. Look out, by the way."

Mary felt the rush of air behind her, ducked a high kick from one of the attackers, then turned and slammed her knee into his groin. He gave a shrill scream and collapsed.

"I don't need your help," Mary said.

"I know you don't," Terry answered calmly. "But I'm giving it anyway. Do you usually take on this many by yourself, or have you ever heard of backup?"

The only attacker still standing held back, uncertain of what he should do now, but after a moment he was rejoined by the man Terry had just hit. It looked like they were regrouping.

"I was about to call for it," explained Mary. "And then one of these guys broke my radio." She thought for a second, then fished a card from her jeans pocket and held it out to Terry. "Here. Find the nearest payphone, call that number, and ask for Sergeant Hawkins. Give him my location, and he'll take it from there."

Terry made no move to grab the card, instead shaking his head. "And leave you to face these guys alone? Sorry, detective, Jeff Bogard didn't raise any cads."

Mary clenched her teeth. "Cram your chivalry, Bogard!" She snapped, not taking her eyes off the two men, who had been rejoined by the third, limping slightly but still looking eager for blood. "I meant what I said the other night. You throw a punch, and I haul your ass in with the rest of them!"

"What if they try to punch me first?" Terry asked. "Can't arrest me for self defense."

"No, but you're refusing to call for backup, like I ordered you to. I can nail you for disobeying my direct order."

Terry grinned, in spite of himself. "You really don't like me, do you? There was a time and place when that would have flattered me. Today, it's just annoying."

Keeping her eyes on the three men, Mary once more thrust the card at Terry. "I'm not fucking around anymore, Bogard. Payphone. Sergeant Hawkins. Now!"

"Um, it may be a bit late for that," Terry told her. "I think I know why those three guys were hanging back."

Mary turned her head slightly, enough to see four more men coming into the alleyway from the entrance where Terry had been standing a few moments ago.

"Still want me to find that phone?" Terry asked her.

Even Mary knew better than to send him away now. She cursed loudly, and then moved until she was standing behind Terry, facing the opposite direction, and took up her stance. "Back to back," she said.

"Obviously," Terry muttered, assuming his own stance.

For a while after that, neither one of them spoke, focusing all their attention to the task at hand. Their assailants had energy and outnumbered them at least two to one, but they lacked both strategy and coordination, moving without rhyme or reason. The exact opposite of Terry and Mary, who continued to repel their attacks with little effort.

As Terry worked, he found himself momentarily recalling the last time he'd fought this many men at once, when he'd first run into Sulia at that arcade. Sulia... No! Don't think about her right now. There is only this moment. This fight.

In his lapse of concentration, Terry almost didn't see that one of the attackers had pulled a knife and was lunging at him. Terry swiveled his body at the last minute, grabbed the man's wrist, attempting to divert the blade, but it still tore a gash in the sleeve of Mary's green jacket.

"Son of a..." Mary hissed. Quickly, she grabbed the man's outstretched arm, pressed her knee against the bottom of it, then slammed her elbow down hard on top. The snap of bone reverberated through the alley, quickly followed by the man's bloodcurdling scream. Mary flung him against the wall and then quickly put her back to Terry's once more.

Mary's sudden burst of rage had made a few of the men lose their nerve. One of Terry's attackers turned and started to run back up the alleyway, but Terry hit the ground with a power wave attack. The shock-wave knocked his other two opponents to the side, then continued towards the fleeing man. He flipped forward when the wave struck him, slamming his chin against the concrete and then lying still.

The three thugs on Mary's side turned and ran as well. Mary sprinted after them, and caught up to the slowest after only a few paces. Terry saw a burst of blue chi as she launched herself into the air and delivered an uppercut to the man's back that also made him airborne. She struck him three more times in midair, flashes of blue energy blazing from her fists, then grabbed him and flipped him over her head towards the ground, where he landed hard on his back. Mary touched down on her feet a few inches from him.

The other two attackers had left the alleyway, and Mary knew there was no point in pursuing them now. She looked down at the man she had slammed, saw that he was not getting up anytime soon. So she made her way back to Terry.

The two men knocked to the side by Terry's power wave had regained their feet, albeit a bit unsteadily, and Mary regarded them coldly, her green eyes narrowed into slits. She extended a hand, gestured to them with her fingers. "Just give me an excuse," she growled.

The men looked at each other for a moment, then back at the blond woman, and then they dropped to their knees and placed their hands behind their heads.

Terry Bogard found that he could not do anything except stare.

The backup that Mary had originally been unable to call for arrived only a few moments later. Apparently, a passerby on the street outside had seen the altercation and took it upon themselves to phone the police.

Now, they were back out on the street, and Terry leaned against the trunk of a squad car as he watched the blond detective chat with two men in drab trench-coats. She had not been wounded, the knife had only torn her jacket.

The back seat of the car Terry was resting on contained two of the attackers, while the other three were being loaded into ambulances. The rest of the policemen who had come were off combing the area for the two men who had fled.

"Broken bones mean more paperwork, Ryan," one of the men in coats said. "Was that much force necessary?"

"He had a knife, captain," Mary explained. "And now he doesn't."

The second man gestured to Terry. "What about this one? Is he part of the ring, too?"

For a brief moment, Terry Bogard met Mary's green eyes. Then, he shrugged and started to look at a nearby wall, indicating that he didn't care what she told them.

"Let him go," Mary said. "He came to my aid after my radio was broken."

"Understood," said the first man, then he and his similarly dressed companion turned and got into a black car nearby.

Terry got up off the car as Mary approached him. "I'm sure that was difficult," said Terry. "So, thank you."

Mary said nothing, merely slapped the trunk of the squad car twice. A second later, the driver started the engine and was on his way.

"You're not taking the car?" Terry asked her.

Mary shook her head, pointed to a cherry-red motorcycle parked on the side of the road nearby. "This is my ride," she said. "I hate taking the car." She stood there for a moment, fingering the rip in her jacket's sleeve, and Terry couldn't help but notice an odd look on her face. Then she recovered quickly, and nodded at him. "See ya, Bogard. Next time, do what I tell you when I tell you, or I won't be as nice."

As she was walking towards her bike, Terry suddenly found himself blurting out: "Can I buy you a drink, detective?"

Mary turned to look at him, for a brief moment losing her poker face. Then she quickly regained it. "You're joking, right?" She asked him.

Terry shook his head. "I'm not trying to imply anything with that request," he said. "Simply that I owe you. I'll be leaving town soon, probably not coming back, and before I go, I want to make sure any debts I think I might have are erased. You could have had me thrown in the back of that squad car, but you didn't. Also, it is sort of my fault your jacket got ripped. So I'll buy you the drink, and then we'll be even. How does that sound?"

She regarded him for another moment, her jade eyes unreadable. Then, she nodded curtly. "Fine," she said. "You have any place in mind?"

"Actually, I know of one just up the road."

"Back already, Terry?" Richard Meyer asked him as Terry re-entered the Pao Pao Cafe. "What, did you find another woman to replace fighting?"

"He should be so lucky," Mary snapped as she stepped out from behind Terry.

To Terry's surprise, Richard seemed to recognize her. "Mary, good to see you again!"

Mary gave him a smirk. "Wish I could say it was good to be back, Meyer. You still haven't fixed this damn jukebox."

"And you still haven't learned to use first names," Richard shot back.

"Why bother? You knew who I was talking to." Mary made her way to the jukebox, still playing the same song from when Terry was there earlier:

To the gypsy
That remains
She faces freedom
With a little fear
Well I have no fear
I have only...

The song cut off abruptly as Mary found the plug and yanked it from the wall. "I can't stand that song," she explained to Terry as she stood up again. "It's depressing."

"You don't say," Terry quipped. Then, he added: "So, you've been here before? I've never seen you."

Mary pointed to a table towards the back, in the corner, partially concealed by the shadow of a rafter overhead. "That's my usual spot. I can see everyone in the place, they can't see me. Just how I like it."

"Who wouldn't?" Terry asked with a smirk. "So, what do you feel like?"

"I'll order for myself, thanks." She turned to the bar. "Hey, Meyer, give me my usual, and put it on this asshole's tab."

Richard nodded politely. "One Blue Mary, coming up. How about you, Terry? Another bourbon?"

"Just a beer this time, thanks," said Terry. He and Mary made their way back to Mary's usual table, and Terry let her take the seat against the wall. "So, you have a drink named after you?" He asked the blond detective after they were seated.

Mary nodded, one corner of her mouth turning upward ever so slightly, while the other remained neutral. "There was a time in my life when I needed a drink that would get me drunk fast. So every time I went to the bar, I rattled off the names of several different types of booze to the bartender, not even caring if they mixed well. One day, either through luck or fate, I hit upon the perfect combination without even trying. I asked the guy what he'd used and committed his answer to memory. It's now the best-kept secret in the bars of South Town."

"What if someone else asks for it?" Terry pointed out.

"The bartender will deny it exists. I have an understanding with them. This drink is mine, mine only."

"Must be special."

The smirk faded, her mouth flattened again. "It helped me when I needed it the most. Let's leave it at that."

Terry shrugged. "Whatever you say."

A moment later, Richard came with their drinks. The drink placed in front of Mary was served in a martini glass, and looked clear, like water. Then Terry noticed something odd. When she raised the glass to her lips, the color of the liquid seemed to change to a neon blue. Mary took a sip, placed the glass back down on the table, and then the liquid looked clear again. Terry craned his head down until it was level with the glass, and then the drink's color went back to bright blue.

He sat back up and shook his head. Once more the cocktail looked like water. "What the hell?" He muttered.

Though she showed no outward sign, inwardly Mary was amused by his reaction. "Like I said, best kept secret in South Town. Don't ask me what's in it, because I'll never tell."

Terry nodded, and sipped his own drink. "So, who taught you?" He asked her

"Taught me what?" She asked back.

"I watched your technique the other night," Terry started to explain. "When you fought that big bruiser guy in the overalls. You were putting only the bare minimum of force into your strikes, letting his own momentum do most of the work for you. And he had at least a hundred, hundred-fifty pounds on you, and you knew how to throw him like he weighed nothing. And tonight... I recognize focused chi when I see it. These things all need to be learned. Really learned. Who trained you?"

Just shop talk, then, Mary thought. I'm fine with that. "When I was a kid, I learned Kobojutsu from my father and grandfather. When I was twenty, I met someone else who taught me... a lot. Sambo mostly, but... a lot of other things too." Her voice trailed off after that, her green eyes once more got that faraway look, and her fingers went almost reflexively to the rip in her sleeve.

The silence was making Terry uncomfortable, so he pointed out: "Sambo, huh? Well, that explains how you can throw guys a lot bigger than you."

Like that, the look in Mary's eyes was gone and she recovered, took another sip of her special cocktail. "Right. So, how about you?" She asked.

"Well, you know the name Master Tung already," said Terry. "Both me and Andy trained under him for a few years, learning the Hakkyokuseiken style. Then our father was murdered, and we decided to spend the next ten years learning some new styles. Andy went to Japan and studied Ninjitsu, Judo, and Koppou-Ken."

"Koppou-Ken..." Mary said softly, connecting some dots in her mind. "Right. Shiranui. I thought your friend's last name looked familiar."

Terry nodded. "Thank you for calling her 'friend' and not 'accomplice.'"

Mary shrugged. "Guess you could say I did my homework better."

He grinned, in spite of himself. "Yeah, she's Hanzo's granddaughter," Terry continued. "She's also Andy's fiancee, though Andy is still very slowly figuring that out. Not her. In her mind, she and Andy are practically married."

"Romantics," Mary said with a snort. "I have zero tolerance for that kind of woman. And what about you?"

"Girlfriend?" Terry shook his head. "Nope, don't have one." Then, after a pause, he quickly added: "Don't want one, either."

The corner of Mary's s mouth raised slightly in an attempt to smirk. "No, I mean: you said your brother spent ten years in Japan. What about you? Where did you go?"

"Here and there. Everywhere, really. I wandered from one side of the country to the other, and even a few places overseas. When I needed money, I found part-time work. When I didn't, I'd find a master who was willing to train me, though I rarely stayed with them for more than a year. The rest of the time, I sought out street-fighting rings, sometimes as an observer, sometimes as a participant. Those taught me how to incorporate a few... unorthodox ways of thinking into what I learned from my teachers."

"Self-made man, huh?" Mary asked him.

Terry shrugged. "You might say that after Jeff Bogard was killed, I just took my old life back up again, this time with a focus."

"Geese has been dead for a few years," Mary pointed out. "What's your focus these days?"

"Fighting," Terry said simply. "That's why I'm getting out of South Town."

They fell silent for a while after that, neither one of them wishing to share anything that was more personal in nature. Finally, when their drinks were almost gone, Terry said, "I am sorry again about your jacket."

Mary shook her head. "Don't be. I'll just patch it up when I get back to my office. Won't be the first time."

"Must be special."

Mary's eyes once again took on that look, so Terry quickly added: "Worth breaking bones for, anyway."

Mary smirked, once more not really smiling. "You're one to talk, Mr. Baseball Cap."

Terry laughed, touched a finger to the brim of his hat. "Nah, these aren't special. I literally throw these away all the time. There are several sporting goods shop owners in South Town who make a lot of money off of me."

Mary didn't laugh, instead blew a small breath out of her nostrils. Then, she sipped the last of her drink and got up. "I should be getting back now,"she said.

"Right," said Terry. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and as he opened it, a small photograph slipped out and onto the grimy tiled floor. Terry reached down to grab it, and Mary saw a brief glimpse of the girl in the picture: a beautiful young woman with violet hair and bright, golden eyes. The look on her face suggested that she was deeply troubled by something when the picture was taken, but the eyes were still shining with hope, like she had found a new sense of purpose.

Mary also noticed the look on Terry's face as he quickly slipped the photograph back where it came from, and she said nothing. Instead, she found something else to look at as Terry took out some money and dropped it on the table.

"Thanks for the drink, Bogard," Mary told him after they were back outside.

"Thanks for humoring my honor system," Terry said with a nod. "I meant what I said earlier, by the way. I am leaving soon, and I won't be back until the mayor gets his head out of his ass."

"Which means this is goodbye forever, then," Mary said.

"What will you do when I'm gone?" Terry asked her. "You'll need a new hobby."

Mary gave that tiny smirk again. "Maybe I'll take up stamps. I've heard that's fun."

Terry chuckled, and tipped his cap. "See ya round, detective," he said, then turned and started walking up the sidewalk towards his bike.

Mary watched him walk away, her green eyes glinting with appreciation. He's got a cute ass, she thought. Some pretty nice moves, too. I can see why fighters want a piece of him. Then her fingers went once more to the rip in her jacket, touched it gingerly, like it was a wound on her own skin. Forget it, Ryan, she told herself. You remember what happened to Butch, and what that almost did to you. Your heart belongs to the job now. You gave it to someone once before, and paid dearly for that. Never again.

"Never again," Mary said out loud, with conviction, then turned and started up the sidewalk in the opposite direction Terry had gone.

To be continued...