Fatal Fury Fan Fiction ❯ Fatal Fury - The Vengeful Spirits ❯ Chapter Six - Scrolls of Power ( Chapter 7 )

[ 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. “Dancing in the Dark” is written by Bruce Springsteen, and is copyright Columbia Records. I am posting this fic for free, and make no money off of it.

Chapter Six: The Spirit Scrolls

 

South Town Police Department - 37th Precinct

 

“I never thought I'd hear myself saying this,” Mary Ryan said out loud to no one in particular. “But I'm actually starting to regret not having a partner.” She yawned and filled a cup of coffee from one of the metal urns resting on the cabinet in the corner.

“Did I just hear you right, Ryan?” One of the only officers in the break room asked. “What happened, one too many blows to the head working your new assignment?”

Mary turned and saw a thirty-something man with thinning dark hair sitting at one of the chipped Formica tables, eating a chili dog and a diet soda. “If I ever want to get brain damage, Hudson,” she quipped. “I'll try eating your wife's cooking.” She sipped the coffee, which was cold, and made a face.

“Or you can keep drinking that,” Hudson fired back. “That urn is still busted. Gotta go to the break room on the west side of the building if you want it hot.”

Mary steeled herself, then gulped the rest of the grainy black liquid down like it was medicine. She crumpled the cup and tossed it into a trash bin. “Well, maybe with some of the new revenue the mayor keeps saying that this tournament will bring in, he can buy us a new one. And maybe a cappuccino machine. I'm telling you, Hudson, I have put in too damn much overtime. Every street fighter in the goddamn state has taken the King of Fighters tournament to mean that this city is their fucking playground. I've stopped counting the number of fights I've broken up this week.”

Hudson nodded. “You look bad. Well, you always look bad, so worse than usual. Why don't you start carrying your issue? Might make your job easier.”

Mary cracked her knuckles. “Because I've never needed a gun, except as a paperweight. Nice talking with you.” She started towards the door.

“No it wasn't,” she heard Hudson quip as she made her way back out into the chaos of the precinct, weaving her way through the maze of desks and the traffic of officers, witnesses, and perps. She was almost to her office when she heard someone behind her call her name. She turned and saw a patrolman with thick glasses motioning to her.

“Cecil, give it up already,” she growled at him. “I have the names of three officers who were there, who can all testify that you did not make me smile, so you lost the bet.”

“I... wasn't going to say anything about that, Detective Ryan,” Cecil told her. “Just wanted to say that Captain Bowers wants a word with you.”

Mary rubbed her temples for a moment, then turned and plunged back into the maze to make her way to the captain's office.

 

I hope that coffee I drank was poisoned, Mary thought to herself an hour later as she walked down the sidewalk. The meeting with the captain had gone as well as it could have gone. As in, Mary had resisted the urge to pick him up from his chair and throw him through the door of his office. She had never liked working for Bowers, anyway. He had been an inspector under Geese Howard's reign, supposedly one of the officers Geese had in his pocket. But those were rumors only, there had never been enough evidence to indict him. In the interest of goodwill, he had accepted a demotion to captain, and supposedly had been a model officer ever since.

Mary's green eyes flicked down to the manila folder she was carrying, which had HOWARD G written on the outside in black permanent marker. She wasn't crazy about her new assignment, but she had it, and so she would handle it just like she had handled her last assignment: by doing her homework.

"Nice to finally see you in broad daylight, detective," Mary heard a familiar voice behind her. She turned and saw Terry Bogard standing there, a newspaper tucked under his arm.

Just what I need right now, she thought as she tried to hide the folder behind her back. "I thought you said I was never going to see you again, Bogard," she huffed. "Typical men: nine times out of ten, they never can keep their promises."

Terry smirked at her. "Well, I was ready to leave," he said. "Then I took your advice." He showed Mary the front page of the paper he was carrying, the headline of which talked about the mayor's recent proclamation to have South Town host a new King of Fighters tournament.

Mary gritted her teeth. "Shit. You heard the news, then. Was really hoping you'd be gone before you heard it." Though her detective instinct told her that there was another reason Terry was still here, something that didn't involve the tournament. At least not directly. But there was something written on his face. She made a mental note of it.

"Don't worry, detective," Terry told her. "I will only be practicing for the tournament in gyms, not on the streets with other people. Scout's honor."

"Practice wherever the hell you want, Bogard," Mary quipped. "I just had a chat with my superiors, and they've moved me off my current assignment. At least until this farce the mayor has concocted is over."

"Oh," Terry said simply. "I'm sorry."

Mary's green eyes regarded him then with something that Terry thought was mirth, though her mouth remained neutral as always, neither smiling nor frowning. "You're doing it wrong, Bogard," she said. "That's not how you gloat."

Terry took on a mock-wounded look. "Far be it from me to kick someone when they're down," he said. "Master Tung trained me better than that."

"I'm sure that's difficult for you," said Mary sarcastically. "So thank you."

Terry simply shrugged. Later on, Mary would have no idea why she asked this, but she suddenly found herself blurting out: "I was just on my way to get some lunch. Wanna come?"

"This isn't a date, is it?" Terry asked her suspiciously.

Mary raised both her hands. "Don't flatter yourself, Bogard. I'm hungry, so I am going to get something to eat. If you are hungry, too, and you happen to want to eat at the same place I am eating, and sit at the same table, well, it's a free country. Who am I to stop you? Besides, you know I'm strong enough to throw you if you get any ideas."

Terry laughed. "You drive a hard bargain, detective. Actually, I think I am a little hungry. So lead the way."

Mary took him to a diner a few blocks from where they had been speaking. She was obviously a regular, because the man behind the counter asked if she wanted her usual, to which Mary nodded yes.

“I come here because they have the best pastrami in South Town,” Mary explained. “Though the jukebox in this place is also stuck on the same song.”

Terry nodded, listening to the song emanating from the jukebox as Mary made her way towards the back of the diner:

 

I'm dying for some action

I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book

I need a love reaction

Come on now baby gimme just one look

You can't start a fire sitting 'round crying over a broken heart

This gun's for hire

Even if we're just dancing in the dark

You can't start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart

This gun's...

 

The music cut off abruptly as Mary yanked the plug from the wall, and then took her seat at a table in the corner of the diner.

“I was listening to that, Ryan!” Shouted a man sitting at the counter.

“Then you're lucky it's not a crime to like that song, Jerry!” She shouted back at him.

Terry grinned, and after placing his own order at the counter, went and sat down across from the blond detective.

“I hate that song, too,” said Mary.

“I dunno,” said Terry. “I kinda like that one.”

“Yeah, well, I'm paying this time, so if I wanna unplug the damn box, I will.”

Terry laughed. “Are you sure you wanna pay?”

Mary scowled. “Yeah, why?”

“You'll see when the food comes out,” Terry explained.

When their orders came out a short time later, this turned out to be true. "I thought I was hungry," quipped Mary. Her eyes went from the hot pastrami sandwich and seasoned potato chips on her plate over to Terry, who was working on a double bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, a Caesar salad, a bowl of chili and a slice of blueberry pie.

"Old habits, detective," Terry explained as he finished the salad and picked up his burger. “Before Jeff Bogard adopted us, then after he was killed and I was away for ten years on my training journey, eating three meals a day was never a guarantee. So whenever I had the opportunity to eat, I took it for all it was worth, since I never knew when the next opportunity would come along." He took a bite of burger, and then added with his mouth full: "Besides, chi-based attacks burn a lot of calories."

Mary nodded, and took a bite of her own sandwich. There was a long silence, during which they worked on their food. Then Terry asked: "Detective, I have to know. Why are you on the side of the law?"

Mary shrugged. "I believe in it."

"I feel like there's something else," said Terry. "And you don't need to answer if you don't want to. But the night we met, I watched your face when you took that guy down. You weren't smiling, but your eyes had that gleam in them, the same gleam I see in Andy's eyes when he and I fight, the same gleam I'm sure mine have every time I face an opponent: that natural high that comes with fighting someone. You were hoping he would resist arrest, because you wanted to fight him. So I was wondering why you'd choose to join the police. I don't think you even carry a gun. Am I wrong?"

Mary shook her head. "You're not wrong. But who needs guns?" She raised her right hand, balled into a fist. "This will always be the deadliest weapon in a well-trained fighter's arsenal, and the only weapon that anyone with a single ounce of self-respect should ever reach for."

"Well, I have some friends who use weapons, very well I might add, so I might disagree with you there," said Terry. "But that type of thinking is definitely not the thinking of your typical police officer. So why are you with them? Is it just because you believe in the law?"

Mary was silent for a long time, thoughtfully chewing her food. Then she swallowed and took a sip of water. "I'm surprised you never chose the police, Bogard. You'd be a good detective."

Terry shook his head. "I'm happy with my place in the universe. Besides, there are times when police just can't do what needs to be done. I learned that lesson when my father was killed, I kept learning it during the ten years I was training, and I learned it a few more times after that in my travels with my friends."

Mary's green eyes once more took on that faraway look. Then she explained: "My father worked for the government, first in the FBI and then as Secret Service. Both he and my grandfather stressed every day that the skills I was learning would set me apart from most people. But that didn't mean that the people who don't have those skills are beneath me. We have a responsibility, an obligation to use those skills for a greater purpose. Without ethics, we're no better than men like Geese Howard. I think that's why my father got into his line of work. So I guess... doing what I do makes me feel closer to him."

Terry nodded. "He sounds like a good man. Does he still work for the government?"

Mary shook her head. She would later have no idea why she said this, but she found herself answering: "He's dead. He and his protege, the man who taught me Sambo, were both killed about two years ago while protecting the president from a terrorist attack. They saved the president's life... at the cost of their own." She stopped talking then, and her hand fingered the sleeve of her jacket, just like she'd done the other night in Richard's cafe.

Later, Terry would have no idea why he did this, but he reached over and placed his hand over hers. "I'm sorry, Mary," he said. "I can honestly say I know how you feel. Jeff Bogard wasn't my biological father... but he was still more of a father to me and Andy then anyone else we knew before him. So I consider him my real father. Losing him wasn't easy."

Mary looked down at his hand, then, her eyes clearly showing discomfort. So he quickly withdrew it. "Sorry," he muttered.

Mary shook her head, then the look was gone and her poker face was back. She finished the last bite of sandwich and started on the potato chips that were left on her plate. "So, are your friends coming to town for the tournament?" She asked Terry.

"What do you think?" Terry quipped.

“Well, I know that you get funny ideas when the four of you are together. Your heads get swollen and you think that you need to solve a mystery or save the world because no one else can. Well, let me give you some advice: try not to do that this time. This is just a tournament, nothing sinister about it, other than it being a major pain in my ass.”

Terry laughed as he started on his pie. “Not to brag or anything,” he said. “But I have defeated a god. Should we have just waited for the police to show up then?”

“You're talking about the incident in the Dead Sea?” Mary asked.

Terry's jaw dropped. “That can't be in my file. Me, Andy, Joe and Mai were the only surviving witnesses, and we're not supposed to talk about it in public, ever. The Israeli government's official statement is that the disturbance was an earthquake...”

“...And any strange lights anyone saw were caused by the very high salinity of the seawater reacting to some experimental new seismic equipment that was being tested in that area,” Mary finished. “I read that myself. I heard the real truth through one of my father's old friends in the bureau, whose brother works in the Israeli embassy, who in turn has a drinking buddy who's a commander in the Sayeret Matkal. Last I checked, though, there were no sleeping gods or mystic armor in South Town. I was just starting to tolerate you, Bogard. So I would really hate to have to put you, or your brother, or one of your friends in cuffs.”

“Joe might actually like being cuffed by you,” Terry pointed out.

“Will he also like digging my boot out of his ass?”

Terry shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on how much he's had to drink.” He laughed a little at that, while Mary simply smirked and made the same noises she had made the other night in the Pao Pao Cafe, blowing air out through her nostrils, trying to laugh but only partially succeeding.

Terry wiped his eye and then asked her: “So, if this is just a simple tournament, why are you walking around with Geese's old file? I thought that was a closed case.”

The smirk faded from Mary's lips. “Homework,” she said simply. “My new assignment is helping to work security for the tournament, I thought maybe the Howard file might have some intel on what the tournament was like back in Geese's day, give me an idea of what to expect.”

Terry's expression also became serious. “If you want to know what to expect, I can tell you. In a word, it was dangerous. Me, Andy, Joe... we're all lucky to be alive. If it hadn't been for...” He went silent then, and Mary noticed that his eyes had the same look from the other night, when that purple-haired girl's picture had fallen from his wallet. “Never mind,” he quickly said. “Forget it.”

Mary chose not to press the issue, and simply nodded. “Well, we still don't know who's sponsoring this one,” she said. “But if they pull any shit, I'll be sure to let them know that I'm dangerous, too.”

Terry nodded. For the rest of lunch, neither one of them spoke, but like Mary out on the sidewalk, Terry had a feeling he wasn't getting the whole story.

Hida, Japan – The Yamada Dojo

 

Master Jubei Yamada was meditating in the courtyard of his dojo when Andy arrived. He opened his eyes slowly as his student entered.

"Konnichi wa, sensei," Andy said as he bowed his head.

"Andy!" The old judo master exclaimed with a cackle. "Haven't seen you since the burial service!" He rose to his feet and bowed back.

"Sorry, Master,” said Andy. “I know I haven't been around lately to train. But I've been busy helping Mai."

Jubei gave a solemn nod. "Understandable. When you have a man like Hanzo as your grandfather, losing him is not something you get over right away. And then those thugs attacked her so soon after his burial. How is she doing?"

Andy shrugged. "She has good days and bad days. She seems moodier since the attack, though."

"Funny, I called her as soon as I heard about the attack. She said the same about you." The old master saw the nervous look on his student's face, so he gave a shrug. "Ah, well. None of my business. Serious relationships were never my forte, and I'm too old for anything except wild flings at this point." He chuckled a bit at his own joke. "So, what brings you to my humble abode? Are you resuming your old training schedule?"

Andy shook his head. "Not quite yet, Master. I actually came hoping to get some information."

"And you chose to see me in person instead of calling?" Jubei asked him. "I'm touched!"

Andy shrugged. "Well, I wanted to give Mai some time to herself, in case she wanted to have a talk with Master Hanzo's Butsudan. I think that talking to him has really helped her a lot."

The judo master nodded, then crossed over the courtyard to where Andy stood and clapped him on the back. "Let's continue this inside."

Jubei led Andy inside his dojo and to the kitchen, where he immediately busied himself getting down a bottle of Koshu and two cups. "First things first, boy. You and I never drank a toast together to your old Koppou-Ken master at his burial. We're going to rectify that now."

Andy smiled. "All right, Master, but I'm here on business, so I will ONLY drink to Master Hanzo."

"You're no fun," Jubei said with a sad shake of his head as he poured a measure of the aged sake into each cup.

"I never was, Master, you know that," quipped Andy.

After they had drank their toast, Master Jubei brewed some tea, and the two of them moved to one of the dojo's sitting rooms. They made small talk for a bit, and then Andy relayed to his master all the information he had gotten from Joe about the museum robbery in Hong Kong.

For a time, the judo master puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. Then he said: "Well, I've never heard of a Jin Scroll specifically. But I am reminded of a story Tung once told me. About five thousand years ago, in Ancient China, there was a sage who supposedly discovered a means of immortality. Not of the flesh, but a way of preserving one's spirit on the mortal coil, retaining the knowledge and power gained in life, to be called upon when needed."

"What was it?" Andy asked.

"He devised a mantra and wrote it on a series of scrolls. When the first part of the mantra was read aloud, it would draw the spirit from the sage's body, preserving it inside the scroll. The spirit would remain there until another read the second part of the mantra, at which time the spirit would join with the body of whoever read the scroll, fusing the spirit of the scroll to that of the reader's, combining their knowledge and power.

"Which is eventually what happened. When the sage became so old and sick he could barely move, he read the first mantra and drew the spirit from his body into the scrolls. The second mantra was then read aloud by his young disciple. The sage's spirit entered the disciple's body, and the sage continued to live through the younger man, his knowledge and power added to that of the body he inhabited. He stayed there for the rest of the disciple's life, and when the disciple was an old man himself, he read the first mantra and put the old sage's spirit back into the scrolls.

"The secret of doing this has been jealously guarded over the millennia, but it's rumored that there are several spirit scrolls like that one written throughout China's history. Using them is no small feat, though. There is always more than one scroll: the first one, containing the preservation mantra, is used to draw out the spirit from whatever body it inhabits; the second scroll has the mantra of summoning, and sometimes there is more than one of these. You must be sure you possess every scroll before you begin. You must also read the mantra to the letter, in the exact same language it was written in. If there is more than one scroll, they must be read in the proper order, so you would need to know that, as well. And sometimes you would need a cipher, if the scroll's author did not want to make it easy for just anyone to access their spirit. I imagine each spirit scroll has its own cipher."

Jubei fell silent again, and re-lit his pipe. Andy was silent for a moment, as well, processing everything his master had said. Finally, he asked: "Did Master Tung say what these spirit scrolls could do, once the spirit had been joined to a living host?"

Master Jubei shook his head. "No. If I had to guess, I suppose it depends on the spirit that inhabits them. If the scrolls were crafted by a sage or philosopher, the reader might be endowed with insight and wisdom. Scrolls written by a warrior might give you strength and power far beyond your own abilities."

Andy steepled his fingers in front of his face, deep in thought. Considering everything he'd seen in his own travels, he was prepared to take this story at face value. If this Jin Scroll were a spirit scroll, Andy had an idea on the type of spirit it might contain if Geese Howard wanted it. And it wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Based on what Joe told me," said Andy. "It sounds like that scroll in Hong Kong was stolen by one of Geese Howard's men. Geese might still be alive."

Jubei raised an eyebrow at that. "So I suppose you'll be going on a trip soon?"

Andy nodded. "Joe is making the travel arrangements."

"Is Mai going, too?"

"Yes, Master, though I wish she weren't."

Jubei sipped his tea. "Well, if you want, I can come down and house-sit for her while you two are gone. Just in case one of her uncles comes sniffing around the dojo for a piece of Mai's inheritance."

"Thank you, Master," said Andy. "I'll let her know you offered."

Master Jubei suddenly took on a thoughtful look. Usually, when they talked about Mai, his dark eyes had a lecherous gleam. Now, they simply looked thoughtful. "Andy, how are you and Mai doing?"

For a moment, Andy was taken aback. It was not like his master to ask a question like that. "We're... fine," he said after a pause.

"Hm." Jubei puffed slowly on his pipe. "She seemed concerned when I talked to her. Like she felt that someone who means a lot to her was turning back into that withdrawn boy who broke her heart three years ago when he left Hanzo's dojo in the night without saying goodbye, and then couldn't even bother to call when he finally came back a year later."

"I've had a lot on my mind," Andy explained. "Mai wasn't there three years ago, the first time Terry and I fought Geese."

"You're right," the judo master said with a nod. "She wasn't there. And you were. Call me crazy, Andy, but you might consider telling her about it."

Andy finished his tea and rose from the table. "I'll need to think about that, Master." He bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your help. I'll show myself out."

He made it to the door when he heard Jubei call his name again. Andy turned and saw his master puffing on his pipe, once more looking thoughtful.

"I spoke to Hanzo about a week before he passed," said Jubei. "He must have sensed that his time was drawing near, because he asked me to keep an eye on that which was most precious to him, after he had left this world. I didn't ask him to specify, because it was obvious what he meant, but now I think that he wasn't just talking about Mai.”

Andy said nothing, and simply nodded his head. So his master continued: “Andy, I have only one more piece of advice to give you on this matter: you could live to be a hundred, and never come close to finding another girl quite like Hanzo's granddaughter. I hope you realize that before you do something stupid, boy."

Andy bowed again. "Believe me, Master, I know how special she is."

 

For the entire train ride back to Mino, Andy gazed out the window, watching as the sun sank lower in the sky. He found himself remembering that night in South Town, Lily's broken body in Terry's arms, and the sadistic gleam in Geese Howard's eyes as he gazed down at them. Then Andy found himself remembering the Dead Sea, Terry screaming to the sky as he cradled Sulia, blood pouring from the mortal wound in her chest.

It's funny, he thought. Right after that, both me and Mai were nearly killed by the actual God of War. I was trying to shield her, but he might have destroyed us both if Laocorn hadn't taken the brunt of that energy attack. And I'm still more afraid of Geese than I am of a god.

It was sundown by the time he got back to the Shiranui dojo. “I'm back!” He called from the foyer as he removed his shoes and socks.

“I'm in here!” He heard Mai's voice. Andy followed the sound of it to one of the sitting rooms, where he found Mai kneeling at the low table, sipping some tea and trying to make sense of Hanzo's old stock portfolio, to see what the dojo's money was currently invested in.

“None of this makes sense to me,” she muttered. “I need to call grandfather's old accountant and set up a meeting after we get back from America.” Then she saw that Andy was standing in the doorway. “Oh, hey, Andy.” She rose to her feet. “There's kake udon and a little bit of shrimp tempura in the fridge, if you haven't eaten yet.”

“Thanks,” Andy said absently. “I think I might exercise first, since I'm not really hungry right now.” At this moment, however, all Andy wanted to do was look at her. Mai was still wearing a plain black kimono, but he thought she was beautiful in it as always.

“Okay,” said Mai, noticing the odd look in his eyes. “So, how is Master Jubei?”

“He's doing well,” Andy replied. “He actually offered to come down and stay at the dojo while we were gone, in case someone in your family tries to take advantage of your absence.”

“That's sweet of him,” Mai said. “I hope you accepted the offer.”

Andy shook his head. “I told him I'd pass it along to you. It's your roof now, so it's your decision.”

Mai shook her head back at him. “Andy, you've lived here for over ten years. And we have been dating since Krauser was killed. I wouldn't have minded if you said 'yes' for me. Well, no matter. I'll call him first thing in the morning. Though I do want to put the good sake in the locked cabinet and take the key with us.”

Andy stepped over to her then, wrapped his arms around her slender body. He pulled her close, hugging her tightly. Mai opened her mouth, about to say something, but then shut it again. Andy had not held her like this since that night in Jerusalem, and also, it was the first real affection that he'd shown her in days. This time, Mai did not feel like spoiling the mood by trying to talk.

Andy shut his eyes, becoming lost in her presence. He felt the warmth of her body, breathed in the floral scent of her hair, and the faint smell of sandalwood on her soft skin. I'm sorry, Mai, he thought silently to himself as he held her, his cheek touching against her own. Even if I can't stop you from coming with me, I still can't let you get involved in this. This was never supposed to be your fight. Someday, I hope you can understand that. After a time, Andy placed a tender kiss on her full red lips, and then stepped back from her.

“What was that for, Andy?” Mai asked him.

“No reason,” he said. “I just felt like doing it. Because you're you.”

“Oooo-kay,” Mai said, scrunching up her pert nose in confusion. Andy might have gotten better with displaying affection, but it still was not like him to say things like that. “Is everything all right?”

“You mean a lot to me, Mai,” Andy said. “You know that, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” Mai answered. “Andy, what's wrong? What's gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” said Andy. “I'm gonna go change and hit the gym.” He turned and left the sitting room.

“Andy,” Mai called after him. “Please don't walk away from me. Talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you.” She got no reply, just as she'd gotten since Andy had found that envelope.

Mai rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she stood there for several minutes, wondering. Then she shook her head. “Okay, Andy,” she said quietly to herself. “I've tried to be polite, and I can see now that's not going to work. But I'm a modern kunoichi. We know how to adapt.” She sat back down at the table, drained her teacup, and turned her attention once more to the stock portfolio. “I love you, Andy Bogard. I always will. But if I have to play hardball to find out what you're not telling me, then it's game on...”

 

To be continued...