Steve Irwin, one of the kindest and greatest men ever, has died in a freak stingray attack.

This guy had some critics who thought what he did was too extreme, but this man was a genuinely nice person. He loved animals as much as he loved his family...and he loved his family a LOT. And if I may be so bold, he was perhaps as manly as Chuck Norris...IF NOT MANLIER.

I am so grief-stricken. This is the second TV personality who has played a big role in my life who has died this year. First it was Machiko Soga, and now it's Steve Irwin.

That being said, I'm sorry this one took a bit longer than usual, and might not be up to the same quality as the others. However, I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless.

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Episode 6: Where Do We Go Now?

Even though my bid for the Jaguarandi mask had ended in failure, I was wise enough to give myself alternatives in case that particular plot went up in smoke. I noticed that the key to defeating the Shinkenger lay not in the quality of the particular creature that I would create on any given day, but the materials used to manufacture them. Thus, I planned to use the Jaguarandi mask to create my own creature. With that falling out, I focused on another item.

Red Crow and Rusty Wing are a katana/shuriken group that was used by a feared kunoichi back in Astaroth’s age: knowledge that I gained from the book I acquired from Heihachi’s library and confirmed by Astaroth himself. I was planning to purchase it at an online auction, but someone in Tokyo had already bought it: a weapons merchant, to be precise.

After looking at the man’s profile by hacking into Interpol’s database, I saw that he was but a mere swindler with a lengthy criminal record: no one was going to miss him. Astaroth had been growing restless from lack of bloodshed, so I dispatched him to “persuade” the buyer to hand over the two weapons whose power he clearly had no idea about.

Astaroth ran into some unexpected company, however.
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As one of the largest and busiest cities on the planet, Tokyo also had a bustling nightlife where dance houses and nightclubs opened for the hard-working class of the daytime to kick back and enjoy themselves at night. Some of them were open to the public in general, and others were reserved for only the social elite. Fine wine, pulsing beats, and pleasurable company awaited those lucky enough to get into the latter.

For those who wanted a slightly less risqué experience, there was the next-best thing: a quiet pub known as “the Warrior’s Den.” It was first set up in Tokyo twenty-four years before to coincide with the first King of Iron Fist tournament, hence how it received its name. Paul Phoenix and Michelle Chang frequented the bar the most during that time, and soon other fighters began to build up tabs at the pub. By the time the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5 had concluded, the names of people who had visited the Warrior’s Den included not only Phoenix and Chang, but Lei Wulong, Bryan Fury, Bruce Irwin, King, Craig Marduk, Marshall Law, and (to the surprise of those who asked) Jun Kazama.

It’s definitely weird coming here again when it’s not tournament time, Hwoarang thought to himself as he walked through the door and entered the renowned pub and sat down at the bar counter, but whatever. I could use some booze right about now…

A few minutes earlier, he and Jin had a major argument about how to go about searching to Astaroth, the man(or whatever he was) that killed what was left of his precious gang. Jin was satisfied with investigating the connections between the attacks on the office building and the airport using the list of casualties from the incidents, while Hwoarang had decided that it would be much more productive to actively search of him by scouring the city, thus preventing him from striking in the first place.

The two young men argued violently over how to go about their plan of attack until Xiaoyu popped in and told both of them to chill out. Hwoarang left the Mishima Mansion in a huff and went to ride on his motorcycle to let off some steam. Even though mashing Jin’s face would have made him feel better, it would definitely hurt his chances of getting his revenge on Astaroth if the team was one man short.

Hmph…and since when was I a team player to begin with? Hwoarang asked himself as he waited for someone to take his order. The only reason he joined the Shinkengers was so that he could avenge his fallen comrades and take down Astaroth, but in the past couple of days he was nowhere to be found. Hwoarang had expected his quest for vengeance to be a week at the most: at the rate things were going, he looked to be in it for the long haul.

“So what’ll it be, handsome?”

Hearing the feminine voice, Hwoarang looked up and saw a caucasian woman dressed in a tuxedo with her hair dyed crimson. At least the barkeep’s easy on the eyes, Hwoarang smiled as he responded to the female bartender. “I’ll take the strongest stuff you got, babe.”

The barkeeper smiled and reached back to the wine cupboard behind her and rummaged through the bottles in her quest to find the drink that her current customer had requested. Once she found what she was looking for, she removed the bottle out of the cupboard and popped open the cap.

“Hey barkeep,” another female voice beckoned from the opposite end of the bar counter from where Hwoarang was sitting. “Add his tab to mine, if you’d be so kind.”

Hwoarang looked to the woman and raised an eyebrow at her strange attire. She was a brown-haired woman wearing a beige cowboy-leather vest that was opened wide and barely hiding her modesty, and pants made of the same material and color. Wrapped around her head was a handband with two feathers stick out of the back. Wait a second, Hwoarang recognized the woman simply by her exceptionally-muscular thighs, wasn’t she in the last tournament?

“Hey lady,” Hwoarang called out to the woman who paid his tab as he moved over to the seat next to her. “Do you by any chance know anyone named ‘Julia Chang’?”

“Yep, I’m her adoptive mom. The name’s Michelle Chang,” Michelle gave a thumbs-up as the barkeeper gave Hwoarang his drink and Michelle a piece of paper. “You must be Hwoarang: it’s nice to meet ya.”

“Yeah, whatever: thanks for paying my bill. However, I make it a point not to date women twice my age, so don’t get any ideas,” Hwoarang nodded and took a swig of his alcohol, but quickly put the glass down and started coughing. Oy, what the hell is this? I’ve never tasted booze this strong before!

Michelle let out a laugh as she watched Hwoarang try to regain his bearings. “That stuff was something that Paul and I came up with before you were even a thought in someone’s head: back during the first King of Iron Fist Tournament.” Michelle gave Hwoarang a pat on the back as she too took a swig of her beverage, although she didn’t cough. “It’s called ‘the Drink of Healing.’ It may have some extra kick to it, but it’s good for the soul…and from the looks of things, you could use it.”

“And just what the hell do you mean by that?” Hwoarang replied, slightly irked by hearing that.

“You just have that look on your face,” Michelle shrugged as she took another drink. “A penny for your thoughts, as they say…is something troubling you?”

“Quite frankly, it’s none of your business,” Hwoarang snapped back with irritation and took a long gulp of his “Drink of Healing,” although he didn’t really feel any better despite its name, “so butt out, lady!”

“…never mind, I think I might have guessed it,” Michelle finished off her drink and handed it the now-empty glass to the barkeeper. “You lost your friend, and now you want to get even with the person who took him away.”

Hwoarang stopped drinking and raised his eyebrow again before putting his glass back down. “…is it really that obvious?” he asked with a grim expression on his face.

“Nah…it’s just that you’re not the only one is this room whose had the monkey called revenge clinging to his back,” Michelle’s voice became slightly less chummy as she answered Hwoarang’s question, “or in my case…her back.”

“Is that so?” Hwoarang turned in his seat so that he was facing Michelle. “Am I to believe to Julia’s mom has rats in her closest? Now this I have to hear!”

“Back before the first King of Iron Fist Tournament, old man Heihachi had sent men to my homeland in Arizona to an ancient treasure. My mom and dad weren’t too keen about that, though…and after a couple of months, one of his goons finally snapped…and took out my old man.” Michelle’s voice was solemn as she remembered her mother’s tears when she told her about the incident. “That’s actually the reason I entered that tournament: to mash that schmuck’s head and play soccer with it.”

“Yeah, I hate that old bastard, too,” Hwoarang shook his head as he too remembered the humiliation he had suffered at the King of Iron Fist’s hands, only it was a mere two weeks ago rather than twenty-four years back. “Being how that he’s still around, I’m guessing you never got to take him out.”

“Nope, but I ran into him two years later in the King of Iron Fist Tournament 2.” Michelle nodded to the bartender as she handed her a refill of her alcohol while she continued. “Mishima Jr also wanted his hands on said treasure, and kidnapped my mom in an attempt to blackmail it out of me. When I got to the King of Iron Fist Tournament 2, Heihachi was competing as a normal competitor and suddenly we were in the same boat; suddenly, getting my revenge became a lot easier…”

“So why didn’t you do it?” Hwoarang, his interested piqued, asked expectantly.

“I grew up.” Michelle replied with a surprisingly simplistic answer. “After the second tournament, Heihachi said that he would compensate my family for all of the trouble the Zaibatsu had caused us, and soon after that I found Julia. Once I began to raise her, revenge just didn’t have the same appeal to me anymore…because I had friends and family to back me up.”

Friends to back her up, huh? Hwoarang repeated her words to himself as he pondered what she was getting at. “What’s your point? Are you saying that I should forget about it?”

“Of course not; I still wouldn’t mind knocking Heihachi and Kazuya down a few pegs, but you shouldn’t get obsessed over it. Because once you fulfill that revenge…do you have any plans on what you’re going to do next?”

“…” Hwoarang had no answer. He had thought nothing of what he would do once he destroyed Astaroth, because there was really nothing else that mattered to him at the moment. Taking his silence as a “no,” Michelle continued.

“Just remember, there are things more important than life than settling a vendetta. Think about that for a while, and you’ll see what I mean.” Michelle smiled again and lifted her now-refilled glass in a toast. “To friends and good times!”

Hwoarang hesitated at first, but gave in after a couple of seconds and responded by lifting his glass as well. “May the good times roll…”