A novel by Matthew Drury streetsofragesaga.net Streets of Rage 4 (The Novel) © 2021 Matthew Drury, All Rights Reserved. streetsofragesaga.net streets4rage.com 2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1 Streets of Rage © 1991, 1992, 1994, 2020 SEGA. All Rights Reserved. Streets of Rage 4 (Video Game) © 2020 SEGA. Developed by LizardCube, Guard Crush Games, and DotEmu. Licensed by Copyright Promotions, Ltd. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Other titles in this series: Streets of Rage: The Complete Saga (2014) This one goes out to all my real friends, from London to Los Angeles, from Sittingbourne to Long Beach. Are you ready for one more SOR novel? Let’s Rock this Shit! “Ten years have passed since the fall of Mr. X and his Syndicate. The city has been at peace... until now. A new crime empire has arisen, corrupting everything good in the city. It is rumored to be led by Mr. X's own children: the Y Twins. Former detectives Axel Stone and Blaze Fielding join forces with their old friend's daughter, Cherry Hunter, along with Floyd Iraia, an apprentice of the brilliant Dr. Zan. Together these four vigilantes stand against the Y Syndicate on the... Streets of Rage.” PROLOGUE TEN YEARS LATER People’s Republic of China March 2039 The four unarmed, suit-clad government men and their civilian entourage stood shivering at the edge of the cliff outside the gates of the prison. This coastal area of China could be extremely cold in winter, but the cold was decreasing: this was March, and the weather was already starting to warm up for Spring. Behind the crowd stood two US Special Forces soldiers wearing black berets adorned with a patch depicting the US flag with the flaming sword of Damocles on top, flanked by uniformed soldiers holding their rifles pointed at the ground, fingers curled over the outside of the trigger guards. Stitched below the winged parachutes on the soldiers’ right sleeves were small black diamond patches, no bigger than a thumbnail. They were an elite unit. Adam Hunter and Estel Aguirre were in charge of the special forces unit, and were here on behalf of the United States of America overseeing a very high profile prisoner transfer. Estel was a tall muscular amazon woman in her early thirties with blond hair, shaved on the sides, with a long braid, while he was an African-American man in his late forties with short dark hair. He wore green sunglasses. A buzzer sounded and the gates opened. More soldiers emerged and fanned out, escorting a man wearing a prisoner’s shock belt. He was Japanese, in his forties and menacing, eyes like a pit viper. He was muscular, scarred through years of physical trauma, with shoulder- length black hair peppered throughout with streaks of gray. He was being led toward an unmarked armored vehicle in a waiting convoy by the side of the road. 11 Leon Shiva. Former Head of the New Syndicate, before that the right hand man of Mr. X himself. Overseer of various illegal scientific research projects during the days of the Syndicate Wars, and arguably one of the most dangerous men alive – now reduced to this. Restrained, having spent years in prison already. The United States had only just won a months-long renegotiation with China - where he was eventually captured by Interpol – to have Shiva transferred onto US soil to face prosecution there, where most of his recorded atrocities were known to have occurred. Adam smirked, watching the man’s defeated walk through the prison gates. How things had changed. One of the soldiers was barking orders to his subordinates. People started moving around. Then in the next moment, Adam and Shiva’s gaze met solemnly across the crowd. But instead of the haunted, defeated expression that Adam had expected to see… no, wanted to see in Shiva’s eyes… there was one of fiery determination. Adam frowned. Leon Shiva smiled widely, as if amused, or satisfied at a hidden thought. A young soldier touched the older man’s arm then, to help him into the armored vehicle. “Right this way, transfer – ” The small guardhouse some twenty meters away suddenly exploded, blowing apart concussively. There was a flash of light, a loud, flat bang! – and the building tore to pieces. Glass blew out. Wood sprayed. Flying shrapnel. A wall of flame. Adam hit the dirt instinctively. Estel dived for cover behind a telephone pole. A piece of shrapnel imbedded itself violently right next to her head in a blur of motion. Carnage. Noise. After what was little more than a few seconds, the tumult began to fade, echoing deeply, flames raging to the sky. 12 Smoke rolled everywhere, beams collapsing in crackling heaps. The guardhouse was no more. Estel climbed to her feet, dazed; she stared incredulously at the rubble then glanced over toward Adam, who was also getting up. He seemed a little shaken but unhurt. At the same time, the pit viper – Shiva – struck the soldier dead beside him. Impossibly fast, he executed a gravity-defying flying double kick that snapped the soldier’s neck before anybody else could even react. “Final Crash!” Another soldier snorted in panic, quickly jabbing a button on a remote control unit. Fifty-thousand volts of electricity erupted from the shock belt, jolting Shiva’s body. An ordinary man, perhaps, would have dropped instantly to the ground in agony... but not Leon Shiva. Incredibly, he had managed to stay on his feet. Teeth gritted. Grunting. Muscles quivering from the punishing electric current. Staring back at his tormenter. A full four seconds... “What the fuck…?” The soldier released the button, still in full panic, blinking. The flow of electricity stopped... and the pit viper was already moving toward him, hatred glowing in those eyes – How…? “Fuck!” “Open fire!” Adam Hunter’s mind barely had time to process everything that was happening at once. Suddenly bam - ! Concrete blew out not two inches from where he stood and he ducked, moving into a jog. He saw Shiva striding quickly across the road, toward the edge of the cliff, away from the fray. 13 Estel rolled, came up screaming at Adam, gun out, moving fast, shoving for the suits and other civilians to get down. Gunfire was coming from everywhere, forcing the soldiers into defensive tactics. “Jesus!” she yelled. “We’re being flanked. Where the Hell did this come from?” She started running hard and fast, both guns drawn now, knocking people ass over teacups, wondering how their intelligence had seemingly failed so utterly. Adam had his gun out now, moving at a dead run toward the edge of the cliff. There wasn’t time to think. People were all around him, confused, and he couldn’t get a clear shot. He was sweeping the gun back and forth, bodies crossing in front of him, all the wrong bodies goddammit! He moved forward, shouting “Get down! Down!” Just then, a Bell Cobra attack helicopter crested the edge of the cliff in an explosion of sound, rising like an avenging angel. It hovered, shattering the air with turbo-throb, blasting the entire area with a roto- wash of loose dirt, tables, chairs, paperwork, debris… everything that wasn’t nailed down. There was screaming, chaos and frenzy. And in the midst of all this – Leon Shiva, with no expression, stepped onto the chopper casually and was hauled inside. The chopper roared like a behemoth, tilted, then slipped over the side of the cliff and plummeted away. Adam Hunter was not impressed, and made a dive flat at the edge of the cliff, nearly flinging himself over the edge, gun extended like it was a part of his arm, finger flat on the trigger, blowing shot after shot at the retreating chopper. Bam-bam-bam! His face was contorted in a rictus of animal concentration. His shots connected with the pop spray of fiberglass, but it was to no avail, as the chopper was already flying away. Adam dumped his magazine, stuffed in a new one, and kept firing. A couple seconds later, Estel walked up beside him and stared over the edge, gun held loose at her side. Adam kept firing until his 14 magazine clicked empty. He grunted, staring. People were screaming, running away. Adam refused to look away from the retreating chopper, which continued following a course out over the sea. Hands clutching the barrel. Finally, he relaxed, and closed his eyes. Estel stared. “Hey.” Adam turned. “You’re on fire.” Adam looked. The back of his special forces jacket was completely ablaze. “Shit.” He took it off, flinging it aside. “Never a dull moment, huh, Adam?” He looked at her. “Not since I met you.” Wood Oak City Harbor The sun was beginning to rise over the fog, casting magnificent rays, as the merchant ship floated into the city harbor. It was a massive steel beast, weathered from years of constant operation. The name of the vessel was stenciled in faded mahogany red on its barnacled outer hull: CS CELESTE. As the ship emerged from the bank of morning fog which coated the ports here in the east of the city, two figures emerged from one of the cabins and walked onto the wooden deck. The first man carried a mop and bucket which he dropped unceremoniously to the deck. He was in his sixties, Asian.