Street Fighter: Dragon In New York - Chapter 1

Street Fighter

Dragon In New York

By Daniel Kalban

Street Fighter belongs to Capcom

Prologue

In 20XX, the Shadaloo organization had been causing havoc in the world. Led by the dreaded M. Bison, these highly trained super soldiers had their hands in almost every criminal activity in the world. Numerous law enforcement agencies, including INTERPOL had been hard pressed to shut down the organization.

Then, a motley crew of martial artists took on M. Bison and his dark forces. Led by a Japanese martial artist named Ryu, they defeated Bison and Shadaloo. Shadaloo tried to rise back again and again, only to be defeated.

INTERPOL inspector Chun Li and US Special Forces soldier Major Guile are now leading a United Nations taskforce against Shadaloo; coordinating numerous agencies and investigators as they try to shut down Bison’s forces once and for all.

As for Ryu, he continued his wandering and training. Occasionally accompanied by his childhood friend, the wealthy scion Ken Masters, Ryu journeyed across the world, always rising to new challenges, including the dreaded Akuma.

Now, Ryu’s journey has brought him to the center of the world.

New York City. And a prize fight at the legendary Madison Square Garden.

But, like a sea monster, Shadaloo is not dead, but merely biding its time….

Chapter 1

The strongly built Japanese man looked out the window of the hotel he was staying at, courtesy of his friend Ken. Ryu was not used to how busy it was, or being around this many people. That came from a childhood training in a dojo deep in the Koga prefecture forests. He watched people, tiny as ants, dash to and fro on their way to who knew where. And the noise! The laughing, the screaming, the honking of taxis, the clanging of trucks. It was too much…there was no bird song, no wind rustling in the trees except in the large park where he and Ken had been training in all week when not in the hotel suite’s exclusive private gym.

Normally, he would not worry about money. But last time he went home, to the old dojo where he had trained as a boy, he saw it had fallen into disrepair. Talking to local craftsmen, he learned it would take an enormous amount of money to repair the dojo and its grounds. Ken, of course, offered to pay for it; but Ryu refused. He wanted to earn the money, whether through fighting or hard work. That’s when Ken found out about this new fighter, who was inviting all challengers to take him on in New York City….

“Geez, Ryu, you’ve been looking out that window for fifteen minutes. Something wrong?” Ryu turned to see his friend Ken flip through the tv channels. As strongly built as Ryu, Ken had long blond hair compared to Ryu’s short chestnut brown hair. While Ryu wore a torn white gi, Ken wore a red gi, under which he wore a black and red muscle shirt. Ryu preferred being bare chested; besides, after all his travels, he was indifferent to changes in temperature.

Ryu shook his head, “No, I’m just not used to this city.”

“But it’s New York, man! Center of the world and all that!”

“Center of yours, maybe, not of mine. It’s too loud, too dirty.”

“What you need to do, Ryu, is get your head in the game. Your fight is tonight, you should be pumped.”

“It’s better to go in with a cool head; you know that’s what sensei said.”

“And we’re doing this to honor his memory.” Ken had become serious, “Win or lose; tonight, you’ll have more than enough money to repair the dojo.”

“I plan on winning, Ken. So, remind me about exactly who I’m fighting tonight.”

Ken nodded and began rattling off statistics. “Vladimir “Destroyer” Pushkin. 25. Mixed Martial Artist. Undefeated. Known as the ‘Pride of Mill Basin’. Father’s in construction…though I hear that’s a front for less savory activities.”

Ryu frowned, “Shadaloo?”

“Nah. Just your basic Russian mobster. Guy’s big, but he’s fast too. He’s a martial arts prodigy, started training in preschool and went pro at 18. He’s not going to be a pushover.”

“After fighting Bison at least five times, I think I know not to underestimate my opponents.” Ryu looked at Pushkin’s picture. The man had close cropped blond hair, and his muscular arms were covered in tribal tattoos. “That being said…he looks like a douche.”

Ken smirked in surprise, “Didn’t know you could tell a douche from another person.”

Ryu returned the smirk. “Of course I do; you’re a douche too after all.”

Ken threw a pillow, which Ryu dodged easily. “Very funny, Ryu. Now, let’s get ready to kick some ass!”

***

Ryu was so amazed by the crowd and by the huge cheers that rang throughout Madison Square Garden’s arena that he could barely hear the announcer say his name. Accompanied by Ken, he ran out the tunnel and the crowd roared. They were chanting his name over and over.

“Ryu! Ryu! Ryu!”

Ken wrapped his arm around Ryu’s neck, “See, you’re famous!”

They got settled in Ryu’s corner; Ken was serving as his cutman, among other tasks. Then, there was a flourish of trumpets, and rap music began blasting. Vladimir Pushkin came into the arena and the crowd went wild. Ryu watched Vladimir as he played to the crowd and knew him instantly to be arrogant, boastful, and full of pride. However, he moved like a fighter born and bred. Pushkin entered the ring and locked eyes with Ryu. Pushkin’s eyes burned with anger and malice. That burn continued to glow as the announcer laid down the rules. No special abilities would be allowed, just skill, speed, and brawn. No illegal moves as determined beforehand by the New York Sporting Commission.

Ryu remained dressed in his gi and trademark red headband. Pushkin was wearing just gold shorts that were covered in the logos of his various sponsors.

The bell clanged.

The two men circled each other. Every so often, one would throw a punch or a kick to get the range of his opponent’s blocks and moves. Then, suddenly, Ryu did a snap kick to Pushkin’s stomach. Pushkin countered by grabbing Ryu’s leg and trying to trip him. Ryu flipped, kicking Pushkin in the chin. Pushkin swung a right hook punch to Ryu’s side, followed by a jab to Ryu’s face. Ryu grabbed Pushkin’s arm, flipped him, and punched him in the chest. Pushkin kicked Ryu in the legs, followed by a blow to the stomach. He then struck his knee into Ryu’s nose. Ryu responded with a flurry of punches in a style Ken called “Ground And Pound”, something he picked up from a fighter named Abel not too long ago.

The bell clanged. The two men came apart and went back to their corners. Ken had a bottle of water ready for Ryu; his opposite number had water ready for Pushkin.

“Doing great, Ryu!” said Ken as he handed Ryu the bottle. “Do you know how many people Vladimir has knocked out in the first round?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, just saying.”

“Keep it up, and you’ll hand him his first loss.”

The bell clanged again and the fighters charged. However, Ryu noticed something was off. Pushkin was faster this time around. Veins were bulging in his arms. Either Pushkin was saving most of his energy for the second and third rounds…or something was VERY wrong.

It was the extra strong punch to Ryu’s solar plexus that made Ryu decide it was the latter.  Ryu’s punches suddenly weren’t phasing Pushkin at all. Instead, he seemed to just shrug him off. Pushkin’s own blows were powerful and fast; blocking them made Ryu’s arms ache.

Soon, one of Ryu’s eyes had swollen shut and he was breathing heavy. Ken was watching in fear. What the hell is happening? Ken thought to himself. It’s like Pushkin has become another person entirely.

Ryu fought back as best he could for the second round. Ken quickly saw to his wounds and gave him water. But this time, there was no encouragement, no grin.

The third round had Ryu gasping for breath as Pushkin just attacked over and over again. Suddenly, Ryu managed to get a few blows in to the solar plexus. As Pushkin was stunned, Ryu did an elbow strike to Pushkin’s head. Pushkin went down. The referee went over. The count began….and though Pushkin fought to get up in his daze, he didn’t make it up in time. Ryu’s hand was raised in victory…only for the rest of him to collapse.

The next few moments was like slow motion to Ken. He saw his friend fall to the mat. He saw EMTs rush the mat and place Ryu on a stretcher. They rushed him down the causeway toward the emergency entrance.

The Garden’s general manager handed Ken the check. “Sorry ‘bout your friend, pal. But here’s his winnings.”

“Do you know where they’re taking him?” asked Ken.

“I heard St. Vincent’s.”

Ken paused as he put the check in his backpack. “Did…did you say ‘St. Vincent’s’”

“Yeah, you hard of hearing?”

“No, but I happen to know it’s been closed for years!” Ken pushed past the portly man and ran after the EMTs. But when he got to the exit, there was no ambulance, no EMTs.

No Ryu.

***

When Ryu awoke, he saw he was tied to a chair, and was surrounded by unsavory men. He strained at the ropes but they just would not budge. He felt lightheaded, weak.

“You beat me,” he heard Pushkin snarl. Pushkin stepped into the light, he was now wearing track pants and sneakers but was still shirtless. “Even with every advantage I had…you beat me. You sullied my career.”

“No, you did,” replied Ryu. He grinned, his teeth still a bit stained from his own blood from earlier that night. “How long have you been using quick acting water soluble steroids?”

“You knew?”

“Easy to tell; probably use it as insurance if your foes don’t go down in the first round.”

“Too bad you won’t be telling anyone,” Pushkin grinned evilly. “See, I was told to defeat you, and if I failed that…find a way to beat you half to death for my master.”

“Your…master?”

“Yes, the man who suggested to my father all those years ago to have me be a prodigy of the deadly arts. Trained and genetically tweaked, the perfect enforcer.”

Pushkin began rubbing his own chest. To Ryu’s surprise, he saw Pushkin was wiping off makeup that was hiding a tattoo. That tattoo was the symbol of Shadaloo.

“Shadaloo…your father works for Bison!”

“As do I. And it’s time to learn true pain.” He nodded to his men, “Stand him up. Time for another round.”

“No tricks,” said Ryu as he was freed from his bonds. “No steroids.”

“Feel free to use your chi abilities, Ryu. I’ll use mine…”

The two men charged again. Ryu’s fists blazed with flame as he delivered his flying dragon punch to Pushkin’s face. Pushkin countered with lightning powered fists. The two men delivered blow after punishing blow to each other. Ryu stepped back, preparing to do his Hadoken attack. Pushkin grinned…and the room’s air began to feel heavy. An awful purple glow came off of Pushkin who slammed a punch into Ryu’s side with such strength it made Ryu cry out and lose his concentration. A kick to the gut took all the wind out of him. Pushkin slammed Ryu into a wall and knocked his head repeatedly into it. Ryu was stunned.

Then Pushkin whispered into his ear “You are nothing, Ryu. I have the true power, and you…you’re just practice for what I want to do.”

Ryu fell unconscious. Pushkin pointed to Ryu’s still form, “Dump him at a hospital or somewhere under an assumed name. Let his friends struggle to find him. Let him be alone and scared.”

***

At the orphanage of St. John, Pushkin’s men dumped Ryu’s body on the doorstep before tearing off in their car. Ryu could barely breathe, he couldn’t stand. All he could do is hear Pushkin’s mockery…and all he felt was helplessness.

Suddenly the door opened, and a boy wearing a tanktop and pajama pants looked down on him. The boy had wild brown hair and an inquisitive expression. The boy shouted inside “Sister Charity, come quick! Think we have a mugging victim!”

And with that, Ryu fell into unconsciousness.