Zhang Jianlong did his best not to budge. His legs were getting sore.

He had been standing almost motionless for about two hours now, by his own estimation. Still, time seemed to play tricks on your senses during unpleasant situations by going almost twice as slow as usual. It wasn't the standing part he minded; he could stand hours on end if need be. The worst part was holding himself in stance, as motionlessly as possible. Dull cramps were beginning to set on his legs. The only consolation and encouragement was that he wasn't alone -- a row of eight, consisting of both genders and about his age, were enduring the tortuous training as well, and in absolute silence. He steeled himself, turning his attention back onto the fighting mat where two of his fellows in training were sparring under the eye of their sensei, hoping it would somehow take his mind off the blunt pain in his legs. It didn't work.

The fight was promptly ended when one of the combatants, a blonde, European girl threw her opponent on the fighting mat with a shoulder toss. Zhang winced as the boy slammed hard into the mat. It was padded, of course, but it still hurt, which was something he'd learned from personal experience. The Asian boy rose, then, with a signal from the sensei, bowed to the girl, who did the same. With a quick turn, both walked briskly towards the line, taking their places and resettling into stance. Zhang watched as his sensei rose from her wooden chair which she had been sitting on, a piece of paper held delicately between her fingers.

[Please pick me...] Zhang begged silently.

"Huang Weiyun."

A girl stepped out from the line, her face awash in relief in being called out as she walked towards the sparring mat, awaiting her opponent. Zhang closed his eyes as he watched his sensei's eyes scan the names written on the list. He'd give almost anything to be chosen...

He prayed hard.

"Zhang Jianlong."

Zhang relaxed his stance, taking a step forward. Instantly the pain vanished, replaced by a tingling feeling as he marched towards the mat and his opponent, his face awash in relief. He was probably going to get his ass kicked by the puny looking girl before him, and it was but only a short respite, but anything was better than the grueling drill he had just been through. He stepped into position, looking at his opponent squarely in the eye, noticing how pretty she was for the first time. She radiated the charm of an innocent schoolgirl. She smiled back shyly, and Zhang felt a furious blush rise in his cheeks. He gave a silent groan.

He never heard the signal to begin. Instantly a sharp jab hit him in the chest on the left lung. Acting on instinct, he hardened the muscles on his abdomen, minimizing the impact of the blow as his ribcage punched into his lung, forcing him to exhale painfully. He stepped back, holding his forearms defensively. But the girl stepped back, a look of concern on her face. "Are you okay?"

"Weiyun! You do NOT hesitate in the middle of battle!" Zhang looked up. Sensei was on her feet, her brow furrowed in a thundercloud expression. "You DO NOT let your guard down and you do NOT give the opponent any quarter!! And you, Jianlong! What were you doing? Concentrate on the battle, not the opponent!!"

Snickers of amusement arose at this point, the culprits attempting unsuccessfully to mask their laughter. Chun-Li gave a brief sigh of disappoinment as she sat down again, fixing both youngsters on the sparring mat with a dark look. "If that had been a real battle, both of you would have probably been seriously wounded by now. All it takes is a correctly placed blow on the correct spot, and you can be permanently crippled, die by suffocation, or worse. I want the both of you to treat this seriously. Is that understood?"

"Hai, sensei," both combatants murmured softly.

"Begin again," Chun-Li said. "I do not want to see the same mistakes again."

Zhang settled slowly into stance, watching as the girl -- Weiyun -- did the same. She looked at him, uncertainty in her eyes. Zhang flashed a grin, giving a small nod as if in affirmative.

"Let's do this," he mouthed silently. The girl gave another smile, replying in kind with a nod of her own. Zhang closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm his flushed cheeks and reminding himself to not allow himself be distracted again. Pretty girls had always been a huge problem for him, a weakness which defied rational thinking and had bothered him no end.

On the other hand, at least he was not forced to stand unmovingly in stance, as most of his fellows in training now were.

"Kaishi," Chun-Li announced the beginning of the sparring match.

Both fighters circled each warily around the mat, silently assessing each other. Zhang narrowed his eyes. She was slim, which probably meant she was pretty quick. Zhang decided his strategy; to end the match as quick as possible with a throw. He didn't want to risk hitting her -- the thought suddenly popped into his head. How on earth was he supposed to hit a girl?

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted as Weiyun chose the first offensive, a straight step-in punch to the chest. Zhang moved, matching her speed, catching her fist with his right hand. Instinct instead of thought directed his actions. He gave a sharp jerk, pulling Weiyun towards him by her arm, his left arm in readiness to strike a quick blow to the base of her throat. Then his brain caught up, and he realized that Weiyun was rushing at him against her will, a very private part of her anatomy on her chest set to collide against him.

"!!?! Nani?!?"

He stepped aside, releasing his grip simultaneously. What he didn't expect was for Weiyun to grab his wrist in return, using him as a pivot. Shock dulled Zhang's reflexes, and he could only watch as the girl rose into the air, her karateka gi transforming into a flash of white and, an instant later, something crashed into his left temple. He staggered, disoriented, but quickly gathered his senses. Weiyun landed softly on the balls of her feet, and Zhang realized that he'd just ate a jump kick up his head. He blinked, clearing the blips of multi-colored lights that danced before his field of vision, and notched his cautiousness of his opponent up a level or two.

"I'm sorry... are you..."

"WEIYUN!!"

"Hai, sensei..."

She was staring at him, still in combat stance, but looking extremely distressed. Chun-Li's voice echoed through the sparring hall. "Are you okay?"

Zhang gave a thumbs-up, his lips set in a straight line. He had underestimated her, and he had let his own naivety get in the way of better judgement. But then he raised his head, catching sight of her eyes. She didn't speak, but her apology shone through her eyes, and Zhang couldn't help but grin back at her, berating himself at the same time.

"Continue."

Instantly Zhang charged. He had to end this as quick as possible -- the longer it got, the worse it was going to be for him. He would somehow flip her, or push her outside of the mat, and be done with it. She sidestepped, but Zhang had anticipated the move, stretching his left arm out horizontally, feeling it connect with the smooth skin of her throat. He curled his arm. Weiyun's upper body moved towards him, but her legs did not -- it was a typical reaction, Weiyun not knowing how to react. He had picked up this move not from sensei's tutelage, but from watching wrestling programmes. It was primitive, it was unrefined, it would be utterly useless against a martial artist of a higher level, but it was good for the surprise factor. His free hand formed a blade, and he turned, delivering the swift chop to the waist that would send his opponent onto the mat.

The chop connected.

The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the mat along with Weiyun.

He groaned, feeling the throbbing pain on the back of his skull from the impact. He could hear his fellows in training clapping, and a barked order from sensei telling them to stop. He groaned. "... what happened?"

Someone offered him a hand. He looked up. It was Weiyun. Zhang reached up, clapping his hand around her wrist, pulling himself up, a chagrinned expression on his face at being floored by a girl. His friends had every reason to clap; he was one of the best among them, and it had been months since any one of them had managed to fall him. And here he was, thrown to the mat by a girl. A pretty one, too...

Both of them bowed to each other, then returned to their places at the row of students in stance. Chun-Li rose from the wooden chair she had been sitting on, casting a glance at her charges. Almost imperceptibly, she gave a small nod. "Dismissed."

Sighs of relief filled the sparring room as the students relaxed their postures, some falling instantly onto the ground, bawling in pain from cramps. Bottles of isotonic drinks were handed around as the students, male and female alike, stripped their karateka gis down to their underwear, changing into casual clothes they had brought along instead. Zhang quickly retreated, out of a feeling of awkwardness than of anything else. Despite the years he had spent at the dojo, he never got used to the scene. It was the females that bothered him, and catching sight of Weiyun dressed in nothing but a bra and panties would be the last thing he needed right now.

A small Chinese garden seperated the dojo from the living quarters. He slipped out from the back door of the dojo, making his way through the garden, and over the wooden bridge that spanned the koi pond at the middle. Now the reader may be wondering what would one of Chun-Li's students be doing sneaking out from the dojo and towards where the rooms and kitchens were. The answer is simple.

He lived there.

"We simulated an experiment on the remote psycommu unit. I have no idea why, but the VanGuard units just won't respond to it. I'm hoping you could find out why... the government wants the VG Project completed for the unmanned test launch tomorrow in the middle of the Pacific."

"I'm aware of that... speaking of which, how may I address you?"

"Me? Aw, just call me chief mech. Or Hunter. Doesn't really matter to me," Max Hunter laughed. "What about you? Can I call you Doc?"

"Of course. Now, you said that the VanGuards would not respond to the remote psycommu. It did nothing whatsover?"

"Nothing. No beeps, no flashing lights, nothing whatsover. Can't figure out why... it was working perfectly yesterday. And of course, you're the only one who knows how these things do their stuff. We don't even have a blueprint."

"It was one of the conditions I had the government promise me before I agreed to lend a hand in the R&D of this VG Project," Vega replied dryly. "I had a nasty experience once; my very own research partner. He'd been working with me for five years, and he steals my plans and pawns them to the American government. He's living very comfortably right now on the other side of the Pacific. Naturally I had to take steps to ensure that it does not occur again. Am I boring you?"

"Not at all. Happens to the best of us, that kinda thing. Ah... here we are." Max said, applying the brakes on the motor cart. Vega looked through a doorway. In the room beyond, set on a steel pedestal, was an open leather briefcase, exactly identical to the one he was carrying. Both men alighted from the vehicle, walking through the doorway. Vega felt his pulse quicken as he noticed four objects set into the red velvet lining of the briefcase: twin needle-like strips of metal, set with an intricate circuit route on its surface, and two rectangular objects that resembled extremely complicated wristwatches, complete with a thick Velcro straps.

Max placed his palm against a black panel set on the plinth, which Vega recognized as an identical system he had encountered earlier. Three short beeps echoed, and Max reached over, snapping the briefcase close before picking it up and handing it over to Vega. He laughed, reading Vega's quizzical expression. "You don't see anything, but there's an intense infrared barrier there. Put your hand in its way, and..." Max snapped his fingers.

"I see..." replied Vega quietly, his heart pounding as he accepted the briefcase from Max. "I'll be taking this to the upper levels, where my lab is. Is that okay?"

"Sure. We don't have the tools here anyway. Good luck, Doc. Remember, we need the psycommu before tonight."

"That will not pose a problem. Just to be sure, I think I will test both psycommu units and the implants as well. I'll phone you as soon as I'm finished."

"Sure thing, Doc. Here, let me send you back towards the exit. It's quite a walk."

Zhang tossed his karate gi aside, wiping the sweat off his neck and armpits with a towel before pulling a plain, dark green T-shirt on. He twisted a tap, dunking his head under the cold water for several seconds, washing the sweat from his hair.

A comb was then reached for.

Most of the students had already left by the time he re-entered the dojo. He scanned the room quickly, eyes searching and skipping over faces. Was she gone?

A heavy hand clapped him from behind. Instantly he spun around, annoyed, seeing the wanly smiling face staring at him. His right eyebrow ticked.

"You know I don't like that."

"Yeah, and that's why I keep at it. She's over there," the boy cocked a thumb towards a corner, grinning all the while. Then Zhang saw her, and instantly his heart skipped a beat. She was bent over a bench, packing her things into a bag in readiness to leave. He turned around to face the boy. "Wang, at times I swear you can read my mind."

"She's just moved here, from what I could gather," Wang said. "Her pop got a job transfer. Today's her first class."

"How did you know all that?"

"How else? I asked, duh."

"You already spoke to her?!" Zhang shook his head in disbelief, then sighed. "Tell me something. How do you get along with girls so easy?"

"Tell me something. Why do you have such a problem with girls?"

Zhang furrowed his brow. "I... don't know. I just get kinda tongue-tied for some reason."

"Afraid?"

"No."

"Shy?"

"... I think. I just can't speak. Usually I end up like a stuttering idiot, from what I've been told."

"Ouch," Wang winced. "That was harsh. Who was it?"

"You don't want to know," Zhang muttered softly.

"Look, girls are humans. Easy as that. They will NOT eat you, they will NOT think you are a freak unless you give them good reason to. I don't get it. What's wrong with you? Aw, she's seen us. Wave, buddy," Wang whispered fiercely in Zhang's ear. Zhang gulped as he saw her smile, feeling his insides go warm all of a sudden. He raised an arm to his head's height, waving feebly as Wang snorted in a combination of amusement and disgust beside him. "Heck, gotta go now. Good luck, buddy."

"Wha... hey! Don't leave me now," Zhang growled angrily, suppresing his voice. Wang, however, was already striding out of the door, whistling a cheery tune to himself. "Geezus..." he gulped again, watching Weiyun walk towards him, her lithe figure swaying with panther-like grace.

"Hello..." she said softly as she approached, extending a hand towards Zhang. "My name's Huang Weiyun... I'm kinda new here. You're Zhang Jianlong, right?"

Zhang grasped her hand in a shake, hoping his hand wasn't trembling too much. "Just call me Zhang." He paused, scuffling his cloth shoes. "You were pretty good on the mat just now... you're not a newbie, aren't you?"

She smiled. "Not really. I've took lessons for eight years in Shanghai before... that's where I come from. The company my dad works at transferred him here, so here I am." She laughed, a clear, tinkling sound. "New city, new school, new faces, new everything... I still don't know the way around these parts." She looked down towards her feet. "I... I didn't hurt you just now, did I?"

"It'll fade in a few hours," Zhang grinned despite himself, forcing himself to keep calm as hot blood washed over his cheeks. Damn himself. Why did he keep acting this way? "You're actually pretty good..."

"Really?" She looked up, smiling shyly. "You're not bad yourself."

"Thanks..."

The sound of a cleared throat echoed from behind them. Zhang turned, seeing Chun-Li leaning against the doorway, her face oddly neutral, but as if struggling to contain a smile. "Zhang? I need to talk to you about something."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Weiyun gave Chun-Li a quick bow, then smiled softly to Zhang. The boy's eyes traced her all the way until she walked through the exit, closing the door with a soft 'click' behind her. Sighing, Zhang trudged towards Chun-Li.

"You wanted to tell me something?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I need you to make a quick run to the laundry shop."

Zhang scowled. "You made it sound as if it was something important."

"It IS important. Move it."

"Hai, sensei..." Zhang yawned tiredly, dragging his feet behind him as he walked...

Vega closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it. He scanned the room -- Dr Tokai's office. It would have to do; he had stupidly forgot to snatch the keys from the old man, the result now being denied access to the good doctor's laboratory.

[A minor setback...] he gritted his teeth. He brushed his hand across the cluttered desk, sweeping aside a sheaf of papers stacked untidily upon each other and clearing a space to put the briefcase on. He snapped it open, feasting his eyes on the psycommu controllers -- a brain implant, and a remote psycommu unit for each VanGuard. Vega grinned coldly, picking up one of the remote psycommu units and inspected it for several seconds.

He strapped the unit to his wrist. It fit comfortably. Vega stared, his eyes filled with longing. Whoever possessed these would be able to remote control and activate limited functions of the VanGuard within a 20km radius, and would alone be able to pilot the machines of graceful devastation. Standard controls would not be able to effectively pilot a machine as advanced and manoeuvreable as the VanGuards, and to this end, Dr Tokai had developed the psycommu units that would amplify the strengh of human brainwaves many times over, allowing the pilot to interface directly with the VanGuard's system software, controlling the VanGuard as naturally as his own body.

Dr Tokai had been a genius. Vega clicked his tongue regretfully. He had tried to convince Lord Bison how useful the man would be if persuaded to join their cause, but his master had been adamant. And it was not Vega's position to question his orders.

The psycommu units were perfect. Vega grinned, snapping open the other briefcase. He would have to be quick.

[30 minutes later...]

Zhang adjusted his cap, positioning it to shield his eyes from the fierce glare of the late morning sun as he pedalled his bicycle down the streets of Hong Kong. The laundry shop was only a fifteen minute ride away, and the potbellied, middle-aged owner recognized Zhang immediately -- Chun-Li was an old customer. The ride back to the dojo was always a taxing one, having a 5-kilogramme laundry bag slung over his shoulder, which in turn forced him to steer with only one hand. Not that he wasn't used to it anyway...

His thoughts drifted back to Weiyun. He wondered where she lived. Perhaps he could ride to her house and offer her a tour around town -- she had said she didn't know the way around yet. The problem was, of course, if he could muster the brazen courage. He chuckled to himself, wondering what her parents would say if he showed up on her doorstep with an offer of a tour when she had barely been here a week.

Her parents.

What about HIS parents?

"Stop thinking about it," he hissed to himself, almost angrily. "It gets you nowhere."

The furthest that his memory would reach was himself wandering the streets of Hong Kong, with absolutely no knowledge of who he was or where he had come from -- all he knew was his name. The police had arrested him, both for not possessing any identification AND scrounging for food; being a tourist destination, the local authorities frowned upon the presence of beggars. That was when Chun-Li had volunteered to 'adopt' him.

She wasn't exactly what he'd call a mother, though... she was strict and formal, seemingly more interested in keeping relations between them as master and student. He had been confused at first, seeing how the other students, both at the dojo and at school, would invariably have parents that fussed over their offspring. Some were even their children's best friends. But he had grown used to it over the years -- in fact, he'd feel rather awkward now if sensei had suddenly started behaving like other mothers did...

His bicycle gave a sharp jerk. Instantly Zhang was thrown off-balance, crashing into the ground. He shielded his face with his forearms, suceeding in grazing them badly enough for blood to flow. He could have kicked himself, daydreaming on the street. A split-second later, the laundry bag hit the ground, bursting open and scattering clothes all over the dusty street. Zhang groaned. He would have to take the whole load back and, knowing Chun-Li, she'd probably take the cost of it out of his pocket money...

"Dumb bastard... watch where you're going next time, kid," a low voice snarled. Zhang looked up. The man he had just hit had already rose to his feet; he hastily did the same.

"I'm sorry, sir... I wasn't watching the road..." Zhang gurgled in surprise and pain as the man suddenly reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt with a strengh beyond his skinny limbs, pulling Zhang's face close towards his own.

"Next time, senor," the man growled with a thick Spanish accent, "I'm going to gouge your eyeballs out. Is that clear?"

Zhang gulped. "Yessir."

The man released his grip with a rough push, causing Zhang to stagger back several paces before regaining his balance, rubbing his sore neck where the man had gripped it. The man 'hmph'ed, picked up his leather briefcase on the ground, and walked away. Zhang watched as the man disappeared through the small crowd who had gathered to watch the scene, pushing his way past roughly through their ranks. Seeing the scenario conclude itself, the crowd dispersed gradually, each continueing on his or her way. Zhang scratched his head ruefully as he bent down, starting to collect the pieces of the now very dusty clothing scattered on the ground. He'd best be quick... it was almost lunchtime.

[I never knew sensei wore skirts...] he mumbled silently to himself as he gathered up the garment. Something that had been previously entangled in its folds clattered to the ground.

"... eh?"

He picked it up, frowning as he inspected it. It resembled a watch... a very complicated digital watch. The realization suddenly struck him that the man must have dropped it. He rose, scanning the crowd in every direction. The man had been long gone. Zhang sighed, returning his attention back towards the electronic device; at least, that was what he guessed it was. The local police force was notorious for its rampant corruption, and Zhang decided he'd post an ad in the morning daily instead of handing it over to the police station.

That is, if he had any cash to spare after sensei took the cost of this extra laundry washing out of his pocket.