The King of Fighters 2003/Team Stories

This page includes English translations for the team stories found on The King of Fighters Official Web Site. You can also find the Japanese version on The King of Fighters 2003 Official Website.

Hero Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kof2003_story/index.php?num=hero

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof2003/story/t-story_hero.html

Shanghai

7 a.m.

The streets are already bustling with activity while the steam and aromas from open-air shops and stands ascend into the sky. It is amply bright outside, but the sun has not completely risen; dark shadows dance on the ground in between the shops of the marketplace. Alone, a behemoth of a man stands out from the throng. "Nuts. That Ash. Calling me here at this time of the morning." Dressed in his usual ultra-casual style, a jacket slipped over his bare torso, anyone passing along the street would recognize him. In Shanghai he is the man called "Shen Woo." Shen means "god" and Woo the Chinese word for "battle." Naturally, this isn't his real name.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha. You're here. Shen, long time no see! So, where is a place that will feed us some delicious crabs? You must know, right Shen?"

"Ash...who'd eat crab at this ungodly morning hour?!"

"Lighten up there, pal. Then how about a little dim sum before Duo Lon gets here?" The young Caucasian with platinum hair gathered up in a katyusha is Ash Crimson. Alabaster skinned with blue eyes. Freckles still remain on his cheeks positioned over the edges of a mouth contorted into an impertinent smirk. You could call him a handsome lad or not, but it is certain that he is enveloped in a strange sort of magnetism that garners glances. His body is slight but sinewy. "Crab, this early in the morning..." Thrusting forward through the crowd, Ash finds Shanghai crabs dumped into a wooden crate, wriggling gloriously in the display window of a shop.

"Look, look. They look spunky. Your buying, right?"

"Who's buying? Give it a rest. And in the first place, do you even eat crab? Tourists from Europe tend to shy away from our local delicacy, you know?"

"I love crab. And after you hear what I got to tell you, I think you'll gladly foot the bill." Ash's mischievous expression is reflected in the window of the shop. "One guy said the clown who ate Shanghai crab for the first time was extremely courageous...or just amazingly intelligent. It's the truth, Ash. So what's your important story?"

And then: the reflection of the figure of another tall man appears in the glass of the show window which would be difficult to be called polished. "......" Ash and Shen, without looking back, continue pretending to keep judging the quality of the crabs. Shen clicks his tongue slightly. Although distracted by the conversation, being snuck up on so easily...?

"Ah, ha, ha, Duo Lon. It's been awhile. How have you been? How about we talk somewhere out of the way while we fill our bellies?"

"This place looks good."

Even the fresh air of morning becomes cold and gloomy around this guy. The figure of the tall man, dressed in a costume luxuriously embroidered, appears from the pallid shadows between the buildings. Duo Lon. All but the age of a young man, he is actually a member of the "Flying Brigands," a group of assassins who reside in the back regions of China. He is laconic with a presence that naturally overwhelms people, and bears a sad countenance.

"Ta-dah! Can you believe it? This came to me in the mail. "

What Ash produces is an envelope sealed archaically with wax.

THE KING OF FIGHTERS.

The world's largest tournament of varying fighting styles. Both Shen and Duo Lon are aware of this. And they both know it is a team event of teams consisting of three fighters each. Annually some sort of crisis accompanies it; in other words, an event with attitude.

"I won't pull any punches. I want to join this thing. So, I'm hoping you'll feel the same. How about it? Will you enter with me?"

"Sounds like fun. OK, I'm in! I've always wanted to be in KOF, at least once. I'll go anywhere where strong opponents can be found."

"That's the ol' pepper, Shen. Happy to hear it. How about you, Duo Lon?"

"...Yeah, OK."

"Ah, ha, ha, ha. Then it's all decided!"

"As a matter of fact, the application of we three has already been made. It would have been a real bummer if either of you had refused to accompany me."

"Say what? You already entered us? ...Ah, whatever. I'm pumped up for this!"

"...What are you scheming? Huh, Ash?"

"Oh, come, come, Duo Lon. It's nothing of any consequence."

"And if I had said I wouldn't do it...What would you have done?"

"...Hmm. What would I have done?"

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Ash laces the invitation between the fingers of his left hand and plays with it. Supple fingers are they, which look like they have nothing to do with combat. And his nails are adorned with nail art. From the four corners of the invitation interlaced in Ash's fingers burst emerald flames. The entire invitation is swiftly consumed by flames, but the vigor of the flame does not abate and a pillar of flame bursts from Ash's left hand. A spiral of wind breaks out at his feet, blowing up Ash's platinum blond hair, and the flames burn even higher and stronger. He laughs. At the depths of his innocent and capricious giggle an inscrutable something certainly squirms. A few passers-by notice the green pillar of flame but are dumbstruck with astonishment. Ash shakes his left hand dramatically outward. The emerald flames jump from his arm. Drawing a gentle arc that slips between Shen and Duo Lon in an instant, it brushes by the face of a girl passing nearby and then disappears. The draft blows the girl's hair. Promptly thereafter at her side, the thing that was a bee a second before falls to the earth motionless, burnt to a crisp, in a pile of white ash.

"That was close, young lady. Ah, ha, ha."

"Uh, th-thank...you."

"Il n'y a pas de quoi." Ash replies with an exaggeratedly old-fashioned bow

"OK, playtime is over. To make things worse I'm totally whacked from being called out so early in the morning."

"I love mornings in the spring. They say, 'The season is spring. The time of day is morning. The time of morning is seven.'"

Who says that?"

Hmph. For someone raised in France, you have strange tastes." Duo Lon breaks out in a rare wry smile. Although he feigns a cool, adult air, his youth is given away when he laughs. Ash continues.

"As God makes evident in the sky. All in the world is nothing. Well, that's it. Take it easy. Just take it easy. Ah, ha, ha."

ASH CRIMSON

DUO LON

SHEN WOO

Their participation in the tournament had already been confirmed by the KOF Management Organization three days ago.

Fatal Fury Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kof2003_story/index.php?num=garou

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof2003/story/t-story_garou.html

At the appointed coffee shop, the figure of Terry Bogard is still nowhere to be found. The seats of the open terrace are fully exposed to view from the street. The two sitting in the delicately constructed chairs are men of exceptional build. Between the two, one is the champ of Muay Thai kickboxing, and the other is the king of professional wrestling.

"...Don't sit there like a clam. How about a cup of Java?"

"No."

"Look, if you'd just take off that bird mask, you'd be able to drink it, right?"

"It's not a bird. It's a griffon mask."

"Whatever! Take it off. Now! Thanks to your whack little mask, even I've begun to feel like a complete freak."

"Being noticed is the fate of a hero, don't you know?"

(...Terry, Andy, enough playing around. You'd better show up, like, yesterday...) Mind you, Joe is not averse to standing out. But standing out and being part of a freak-show are two different things. Being noticed has got to be on Joe's own esthetic and philosophical terms.

"Hey! It's Tizoc! Tizoc the Griffon! How about an autograph?!"

"Hah, hah, hah! You got it, buddy."

"All right! Thanks!"

Flushed with joy, the child begins to leave...then he and Joe's eyes meet.

"U-Uh, can I get your autograph? You gotta be the Great Ninja Mister Minami, aren't you? You lost the title match with Tizoc recently and became his bootlicker, I hear."

"OK, kiddo. Listen and listen good..."

"Y-Yeah..."

Had you removed Joe's trademark headband right now, you'd probably be able to make out the vivid blue vein bulging out from his temple.

"I...am really...the one and only..."

"Great Ninja, Mister Minami, aren't you? Sorry. Guess I'm late again."

"Geez, Terry. You're ancient! How about being on time just once, eh?"

With his typically casual air, Terry Bogard made himself known. Squatting down, he looks into the kid's eyes.

"If you're not polite and leave out the 'Mister' he might turn you into a toad with his ninja arts. Mister Minami's pretty tough, you know."

"U-Uh OK. I'll be careful."

"You've got your autograph. Now we've got some important stuff to talk about now, so why not go play over there?" "OK!"

Joe, having been referred to as the 'pretty tough' ninja, throws a hissy fit and takes it out on the waitress by yelling for an alligator steak. Terry orders a cup of coffee.

"Take a chill pill there, Mister Minami."

"Hmph. You got the kids eating out of your hand as always."

"You lack the knack with tykedom."

"Butt out, bird face. So, where's Andy? This tournament...I'm talking KOF, of course. He's in, isn't he? He's doing it, right?"

Terry shrugs his robust-looking shoulders.

"Hey, hey! What do you mean? You're not telling me this beak boy'll be subbing for Andy, are you?"

"It's not a bird. It's a griffon mask."

"That's right."

Whether affirming the nature of the mask or Andy's substitution is unclear, but, at any rate, Terry nods. The coffee arrives. The alligator steak doesn't.

"You remember Andy's disciple, don't you, Joe?"

Terry inquires of his friend while he heaps cream and sugar into his coffee as any Yank like him would.

"Disciple? ...Oh, yeah, that something-Maru guy. Wasn't he just a kid?"

"The mumps, I'm told."

"..."

The disciple's condition isn't fatal, but the big A's worried about aggravating his condition. That's why he didn't want to leave Japan at this time...anyway that's the way Andy's message read."

"Hmph. Talk about your doting masters."

"Hey, shut up. In spite of that, he's a tough task master. But I guess that's different from training. I guess you'd call it 'koshi-kondo' in Japanese."

"'Koshi-kondo' ...the phrase that expresses the sublime relationship of trust between master and disciple. The Japanese language sure is cool. Seems your brother is, too."

"He can't match you, champ."

Terry and Griffon. The two exchange a firm handshake across the table.

"Hey, hey. Try to get along, you two. Jeesh! How about I teach you another sublime Japanese expression? It goes, 'Atchi ni ike, kono busu!' Try it the next time you're hitting on chicks."

"Wow. What does it mean? This KOF's sponsor is Japanese, you know. Mixing a little Japanese into my victory speech marks the consideration of a true gentleman."

"Okay, I'll teach you a load of beautiful Japanese expressions after we win." Terry sucks out the contents of his coffee cup to the last drop.

"Well, here we are. We go with the team we have here this time. I'm counting on

"I've got no complaints. As long as chickadee face doesn't cramp our style."

"I've no objections. As long as we fight fair and square, I'm in."

"OK! Everything's copasetic. With this solved I can finally pay my respects to my father."

"? ...Oh, a little memorial visit, is it?"

"My ritual before the tournament. I hate to say this but could you guys wait here awhile?"

"No way! You've got to be joking! You'd have me hang out here longer with the mysterious bird boy? I'm coming along with you."

"It's not a bird. It's a griffon mask!"

"Can it! If the beak fits, wear it. Bird boy! Bird boy! BIRD BOY!"

"It's a griffon mask!!!"

Terry reclines back in his chair and looks up at the sky. His long hair parts to reveal the high wide sky above.

(Pop, this year...what can I tell you?)

"I said stop up your cakehole, bird face! Chew on a caterpillar, why don't you?"

"How about you buttoning up?! For I am Tizoc, the gentlemanly griffon!!!" (...It looks like it's going to be a raucous and tiring tourney.)

Art of Fighting Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kof2003_story/index.php?num=kyokugenryu

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof2003/story/t-story_kyokugen.html

"Pop, we've got no money."

"I'm well aware of that."

"And we're all out of rice."

"I know! So just eat your food!"

The family sits around the low dining table in the centre of the living room...

Atop the table is a single bowl with a heaping helping of buckwheat noodles. It will serve as a meal for the three. The drafts blowing through the dojo are chilly.

"Aw, just once in a while I'd like a little egg in our noodles..."

"Don't demand so much, Yuri. Eggs are only for the Festival of the Dead and New Year's!"

"Boo hoo, whimper, whimper..."

"Well, when we finish let's canvass for disciples. Yuri, you'll be passing out these promotional tissues in front of the train station."

"Boo hoo, whimper, whimper..."

"That reminds me, the gas has been cut too. Ryo, go to the mountains and cut us some firewood."

"Boo hoo, whimper, whimper..."

"Pop, the water's been shut off, as well."

"Yuri, when you finish passing out these tissues, head to the river and do the wash."

"Boo hoo, whimper, whimper..."

"Y-Yuri?!"

Yuri awakens. She was just about to pick up a large peach that had come flowing down the river. She finds herself in the dojo of Kyokugen Karate. A handsome Italian gentleman is now peering into her eyes.

"Boo hoo, whimper, whimper...Ah, Robert...was I sleeping?"

"Like a baby. You must have become quite the fighter to be doing head dives while the Master and Ryo are going through the moves. This dojo does have a rep in this neighborhood for putting its disciples through rigorous training."

"I guess I got a little sleepy because things are so dead around here."

"Dead? Why? ...Hmm, on second thought you do seem to have fewer disciples."

You could hear a pin drop in the dojo. As far as anyone could remember, the dojo was always a little quiet, but now it seemed more so than ever.

"My father and Ryo's training is way too hard."

"I know, but they take part in KOF every year and get a lot of TV coverage; so they always get a huge influx of students at those times."

"And then by the time the next month rolls around ninety percent of them drop out. The other day we dragged in our first new disciple in ages, literally, right off the street...."

"Dragged right off the street?"

"And he just disappeared. He never came back. Having steel clogs slapped on you and being made to run 10 miles, even a horse would run away treated like that."

"Hey, Robert. When did you get in?"

The two greatest authorities of Kyokugen Karate, the invincible dragon and the mighty tiger - namely, Ryo Sakazaki and Robert Garcia - come face to face again. Along with the napping Yuri Sakazaki, it's quite a sight to behold when you consider these are the renowned experts of Kyokugen now.

"I've heard all about it, Ryo. Driven out all your disciples, have you?"

"It's not like I drove them out."

"Haven't you considered letting up a little? For the general public, you Sakazakis have physical capabilities like super-humans from another universe, you know?"

Treating this family as aliens from another planet, Robert takes on the mantle of the singular man of common sense.

"Don't talk about us as if we were a family of Martians. Pop's the only one with freakish ability. We children are just normal citizens of considerable looks and purity."

"I second that opinion."

"...Well, I'll leave it at that. Now, the reason I'm here is that I've got some suggestions that will be useful to this dojo's management. Try this on for size, OK?"

Robert takes out an invitation from his inner vest pocket. Ryo and Yuri are unfazed. Naturally, this item has already been delivered to them.

"Got it? This time you should contemplate using a little more PR, eh?"

"PR?"

Robert loses no time beginning his spiel. Don't forget the pleasant smile in the interview. Praise your defeated opponents with pithy lines. Repeat the words "Kyokugen Karate" and "Sakazaki's Dojo" at every opportunity. "Your town's Kyokugen Karate." "A big 'Haoh Shokou Ken' for every household." "A 'Kyokugen Reverse Fluttering Fang' for your family's security."

"And, yeah...Ryo, we'll sew advertisements on the back of your karate gear."

"The name of our dojo?"

"That's good, but we'll need to find sponsors - like a chain of convenience stores or a sports drink company."

Yuri stays silent, sighing on the inside. Robert seems to think himself a man of the world, but he is a scion of the Garcia Foundation. Since he was born he has been in possession of wealth one could not hope to squander in the period of a lifetime. How could his thinking address the scale of the matter at hand?

"Hmm. A sponsor. That might be good."

(Like a hole in the head!)

Yuri's big brother, a stranger to the ways of the world, easily falls in line with Robert. And because of this, the dojo will always be in dire straits.

"Oh, hoh...sewing advertisements on sacred karate gear..."

"That's right. In today's world, everything's got to sell something...uh, M-Master...."

"It seems like you've been doing well, Robert. Just when I thought it's been a long time since one of my favourite disciples has shown his face around here, here you are with talk about using Kyokugen as a means to make money? Wah, ha, ha!"

Suddenly appearing behind Robert, puffing himself up to full height, is Takuma Sakazaki, who was also in Yuri's dream. The master soba maker - and fighter -- known to all in Southtown.

"N-No, that's not why I'm here. As a matter of fact...."

"Papa, Robert is just worried about the management of our dojo."

To counter her father's wrath, Yuri peeks out from behind Robert, who is averting his gaze from his master to hide his panic.

"Hmph. One who devotes himself to the ways of the martial arts should not mewl and puke over trifles like making money!"

"But Papa. You're always bellyaching about the finances. And the management funds for our satellite dojo in Mexico...?"

"Hush, young lady! If that's what you have to say, then I'll speak my mind, too! This year's KOF is said to have an especially impressive line-up of contestants, but you can count me out!"

"Huh?! A KOF without you, Pop...?"

"You mean...?"

(Heh, heh, heh. Sure they're skilled, but they're still immature tyros. One word of me not joining them against such formidable rivals, and they'll crumble like cookies.)

"Yes!! This time I'm totally free!"

"Yeeeah-hooo!"

"...What the...?"

"That's just like you, Master. You really know how to inspire your disciples!"

"No, that's.... Is it really OK? Me not joining you? Just you three against such fearsome foes?"

"Leave it all up to us, Papa. We'll show them all what Kyokugen is capable of!"

"R-Really? Well...Ah, there it is. Knock 'em dead!"

It was one week later that the KOF Management Organization received word from Takuma Sakazaki that he would not be participating in this year's tournament.

And Takuma kneads some celebratory buckwheat noodles for the departure of his disciples.

Korea Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kof2003_story/index.php?num=korea

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof2003/story/t-story_korea.html

"Why do I have to sit out this year's KOF alone, buddy boy?!"

"You said it! And why do I have to be Master Jhun and Master Kim's lackey?"

The high-pitched wails and low bellowing of the two echo out alternately. Choi Bounge and Chang Koehan, who have continued their program of rehabilitation for a number of years at Kim's tae kwon do gym, are miffed. The two who only a few years before did nothing but plan their escape have become quite commendable citizens. It seems that Kim's heartfelt program of rehabilitation has paid off...then again, maybe not.

The abandoned Choi thinks:

(Not only do I have to do all the housework during the Master's absence, I have to watch after his kids...and boy they've really become a couple of brats recently. Simply put, I've want no part of that babysitting gig!)

Meanwhile, Chang concludes...

(Stuck between the two masters constantly at each others heels, being pulled this way and that....I won't be able to take it!)

"Ha, ha, ha. I'm glad to see you working so hard, Choi. But this time I have to give in to Jhun's earnest entreaties. Well, make the best of it and watch over the fort."

"But, buddy boy!"

"I said, watch...over...the...fort!"

With his arms crossed, Kim bears his teeth, which emit a blinding gleam.

"One more word of protest, and Choi would be feeling the full force of a Phoenix Kick in the name of rehabilitation."

"...O-OK. I got you, buddy boy!"

"Ha, ha, ha. If you express yourself with sincerity all will come to see things your way."

"Yeah, and the bruises you'd give me on top of your 'sincerity' are nothing to sneeze at either, buddy boy."

"Yes indeedy-do."

The two whisper to each other in hushed tones as if a pair of mosquitoes, but Kim doesn't fail to catch their remarks.

"Did either of you have something to say to me?"

"Yeah, we were just talking about..."

"...how much we love our daily training. Yeah, that's it."

Chan and Choi answer unflinchingly. Their faces beaming with forced grins are pathetic.

"Ha, ha, ha. You said it. You said it."

The two shrink away from Kim and let out a small, brief sigh. Their humility and timidity would make one doubt that they were once the evilest of the evil.

It is hardly necessary to mention, but Chang Koehan, with his trademark iron ball and chain, is the escaped convict with superhuman strength. The guy with the charming iron talons is the former mad slasher, Choi Bounge Kim is the one who has devoted countless years to rehabilitate these two through the discipline of tae kwon do and "return them to the path of righteousness." He has yet to complete their rehabilitation. And then there's Jhun Hoon, Kim's rival who gets along with him as well as a trench coat complements Mai.

It is Jhun who comments:

"I'm sorry, Choi. But I just have to take part in this year's KOF."

"But Master Jhun, why are you so obsessed with this KOF...just what gives?"

Chin draws in his sharp chin and closes his eyes.

(Hoo, hoo, hoo. Maybe it's got something to do with the introduction of the new rules, like the free tag-offs!)

This is Jhun's scheme. Even though tournaments up till now were 3-on-3 team battles, contestants fought individually, but this time there's the free tag-off Multi-Shift rule. In other words, when Kim finds himself in a fix, Jhun will gallantly jump in, and along with saving his butt, make the world aware of the difference in ability between Kim and him by magnificently mopping up the mat with the opponent. But this, of course, goes against all his professed principles.

"Look, somehow Kim's team is the only one to participate from our country. So the members of this team must be, more than anything, the best. Isn't that right?"

"Well, yeah, most indubitably."

"Choi, you've shown a lot of improvement these few years, but you still can't hold a candle to me. Chan's in the same boat, but his fighting style is way different than ours, and it's just the right touch to a diverse team."

"Hey, Chang."

"What is it, Choi."

"About this year's team line-up...It just may be our big chance, buddy boy."

"What do you mean, chance? Given the personalities of our two masters, there's no way I'll see any free time, much less freedom, no matter how hard I try this KOF. So naturally the odds of you and me both getting out of this pickle is impossible, and I guarantee that 200 percent.

"It all depends on how you use your noggin, buddy boy."

Choi's scheme is thus: Everybody's a sucker when it comes to sports, sympathy, and friendship. So, when this KOF comes to a close, Choi, who everyone believes is stuck at home watching Kim's brats, shows up out of nowhere and gives them the old, "I was frantic with worry and couldn't help but come to watch over you buddy boys." If Chang plays along with him just right, it'll be a cinch to pull the wool over the eyes of that rube Kim.

"So, that'll casually make the point that we're rehabilitated."

"Yeah, I got you. An appeal to the emotions, and with the media there making a spectacle of it...That just may work."

"It can't fail, can it, buddy boy? This time we'll put these pious pinheads behind us for sure."

"If we decide to go for this, I'll really have to go gonzo during this KOF."

Meanwhile, Kim is uneasy. It is clear that teamwork will be a crucial factor in this year's KOF. With Chang and Choi, he would be on familiar ground, but he can't seem to get along with Jhun. If other teams take advantage of this, defeat will quickly follow. However...

Kim's scheme goes a little like this: It's definitely difficult to take full advantage of the team's maximum potential with Jhun thrown into the mix. But this just might be able to be surmounted with the efforts of the world's mightiest tae kwon do athlete, the one and only Kim himself. He'll conversely use the new tag-off rules to his advantage and silence from hereon Jhun's grating criticisms by "saving his backside and putting him at his service." And by doing this in public, the effect will be amplified because it will create an undeniable obligation. But this, naturally, goes against everything Kim stands for. "Well, if Jhun insists on joining our team..."

In spite of this team devoting their battles to justice, each of it's members appear to entertain some fairly wicked thoughts, but in a way they all seem unified (?) in their intentions.

"Master, I have come to see things your way, buddy boy. This time I'll root for you from a distance, buddy boys."

"So you've seen the light, have you, Choi?"

"Most indubitably, buddy boy. Even if we're not always together, we're still a team."

"Yes! That's the spirit that gives testament that your long years of rehab are paying off!"

"And I'll make up for Choi's absence myself!"

"Chang's got the spirit too...If you put things that way, I can't afford to lose either."

"Don't forget about me, buddy boys, because you can count on me waiting for you at the awards ceremony."

"Of course we won't forget you. Ha, ha, ha, ha."

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha."

Four members, with four (rather sinister) motives hidden in their hearts. The team sets out for the familiar stomping grounds of KOF. Their entry into the competition (barring a shipping problem with Chang's iron ball and chain) apparently goes off without a hitch.

Ikari Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kof2003_story/index.php?num=ikari

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof2003/story/t-story_ikari.html

The border of a certain country. Twenty-three hundred hours. A full moon floats in a boundless sky with nary a trace of cloud. The wind velocity is 1 meter per second. The temperature is 19 degrees centigrade. The humidity registers at 50 percent. Without fog, one cannot hope for a shielding mist. It is a 3-P night (peaceful, pleasant, and placid); in other words, the conditions are altogether unsuitable for this top-secret invasion.

"...Nuts. Hey, Clark. Couldn't you have chosen another day for this?"

"Don't set your guns on me! Right, Whip?"

"The changing of the border security force comes but once a month. ...It was Ralf who judged today as the only opportunity for our raid."

"That's how I remember it."

"See. Even Leona backs me up!"

"Jeesh! Doesn't anyone feel like sticking up for their leader? Everyone's so freakin' logical all the time!"

There is still quite a hike to the danger zone near the border. A hint of tension clouds the faces and the behaviour of these invaders, but the true test awaits a few kilometres down. That is where the carnage will take place.

Though night, the wasteland illuminated by the full moon's glow is amply bright. The pace of the mercenaries garbed in field gear is light, but they fear being fully exposed. Though they know no watches them, they instinctively seek cover, from rock to rock and shrub to shrub. His trademark bandana gives Ralf away. Clark's the one with sunglasses forever fused to his face. Leona, the laconic lady warrior, and the master of the bullwhip, Whip, bring up the rear. The four shadows silently press on.

"!!!"

Whip, taking up the rear, suddenly freezes, produces her bullwhip, and readies herself. All quickly follow suit, a reflexive action brought about by their training. At the slightest indication, the forward three immediately assume combat positions. "Hey, what's going on, Whip...ster?"

When Ralf glances back and focuses on Whip, the image of her immediate vicinity being covered by a dark shadow hits him hard. A giant darkness grows behind her; and the "shadow" slowly engulfs the frozen Whip, followed by Leona, Clark, and Ralf himself.

"Leona, can you make out its speed?"

"Going by the shadow's velocity, I'd judge it at five to six kilometres per hour."

"Hmm. An observational flight, perhaps? Clark, what's the objective's height and size?"

"It's altitude's got to be about 1,000 meters. The total length...."

"Well? What's the objective's size?"

"Four hundred meters. Give or take."

"Four hundred meters?! Don't you think you're a little off?"

"I'm not off. It's about 1,312 feet, or 1,320 Japanese shaku. That's 212 Ralfs lined up end to end!"

"Uh, thanks. What's that length in cigarettes placed end to end?"

"Four thousand four hundred forty-four."

"...You scare me sometimes, Clark. So that balloon's bigger than an aircraft carrier?!"

The massive flying ship drifts through the sky. The shadow hangs over all four, continuing to obstruct the moonlight.

It seems the objective has cut its engines and is drifting. It makes no noise. By the light of the moon, it is difficult to determine the ship's color, but it appears to be coated in a dark blue tint. The noble and elegant design is a lithe streamline shape.

"You got pictures, didn't you, Whipster?"

"......"

"Whips...Oh, all right, you little twit! Whip! You did get pictures, didn't you?!"

"Yup. And the data's already encoded and compressed. Shall I send it to Heidern?"

"It's got nothing to do with the mission directly...but we can't ignore it. Just that monster nonchalantly floating near the border's hot zone is one big piece of intel."

"Our position may be given away with the momentary transmission of this data."

"No kidding. How long do you think I've been doing this anyway? I know the risks. Send it!"

"Yes, sir."

Leona does not avert her gaze from the giant flying ship leisurely flying on by. She continues to study it, as if trying to remember something, and whispers to herself:

"I've seen that ship.... I just know it."

"You're rationalizing, Leona. You can't possibly recognize that levitating leviathan." Ralf and Clark frown simultaneously. There is no way Leona can know this craft. But this sense memory...?



"Mistress Rose, the four life signs we picked up previously have begun moving again. It lasted but a moment, but there's a trace of an electronic transmission being sent - a transmission of encoded data. Perhaps agents from some sort of intelligence service?"

"Oh really...? Any word from my brother?" The answering voice is that of a youthful woman. She is oblivious to the contents of the report. The compact control room of the flying machine is packed with myriad consoles. A blonde girl appears on one of them. It is likely a closed-circuit system allowing direct communication with this girl in a separate room.

"Are we to rendez-vous over the Pacific as planned?"

"Yes.... Tedious, isn't it, Gwan?"

The girl called Rose coos to her black panther crouching at her feet while playing with her blonde tresses. Rose strokes the beast's brow with her foot, as if it were but a house cat.

"And what of those four we previously detected?"

"I'm not interested. Leave them."

"Very well...."



"Heidern. KOF has just begun in all venues throughout the world."

"Good work."

The one-eyed mercenary Heidern is currently in cahoots with Interpol, investigating the hidden mystery behind KOF...the King of Fighters.

"Keep my apprised of the steady progress of our two participating squads."

"Yes, sir. And here are the estimated specs of the flying ship from last month's report."

"Estimated?"

In an exceedingly brief alignment of characters, the following appeared on the submitted transparency: 'Total length less than 400 meters. Total width, less than 50 meters. In addition to a maximum speed below 180 kilometres, a flight range of 60,000 kilometres is estimated. All data computed on the basis of image submitted.'

"For that amount of investigatory time, we still don't know the owner of this particular vessel?"

"My apologies. The tangible and intangible hurdles to attaining such intel were considerable. Further, the vessel, we surmise, is apparently equipped with some sort of radar-jamming system. ...This is all just supposition and conjecture on our part, though." (This worries me... ...What is this apprehension I feel?)

Heidern orders further inquiry into the mysterious flying ship, but the submission of the official report from the investigative agency is scheduled for a date after KOF's conclusion. Regardless, it was subsequently made known that the name of the sky ship was "SKY-NOAH." And its owner...