Darkness.   
	Her world was a realm of nothing, devoid of sight, sound, 
touch, and  emotion. She knew she existed, but she didn't know as 
what. She floated in a sea  of black; engulfed, enveloped, swallowed 
whole. The nothingness was all  around her, was in her, was her, and 
she didn't feel enough to scream.   
	Then, a voice:   
	"Where is the prototype?"  
	It was a heavy voice, deep, menacing. She feared it, but 
couldn't remember why. 
	"Yes, sir." came another, more high-pitched, less strong 
tone. "She should be responding to external stimuli, now. Would you 
like me to-"   
	"Do it."   
	"As you command."
 Then, there was a _click_.   
	Suddenly, the darkness cleared away. She would have 
perhaps winced  at the bright light that she could now perceive, but she 
could not move her body, not even an eyelid.  
	She could see that she was in a room; a cold, dark, metallic 
room, strapped to a chair underneath heavy lights. Why was she 
restrained? The leather bands dug into her slim arms and legs.    
	The voices again. And this time, they had faces. The first was 
a tall,  thin man wearing a white coat. A doctor, perhaps? He did carry 
a syringe at  his  side. Even so, something inside her recoiled in 
apprehension.   
	He came nearer to her, and she could smell his nicotine-
polluted breath  as he shone a penlight into her left eye. He moved the 
light and somehow, she followed it with a green eye.   
	"Good, good...." he murmured as he snapped the penlight off 
and  wrote something on the little clipboard he carried.   
	"Your mumbling does not give me the information I have come 
for."  came the deeper, undeniably more powerful voice. She couldn't 
tell who it was that spoke, because he was off to the side and she 
couldn't move her head.   
	"Forgive me, sir." said the thin man, nervously putting his pen 
away,  and then opening a folder that was on a table nearby.   
	"Let's see........." he said, flipping to the first page. "Subject 
name:  Camilla Janis White. Age: Sixteen. Race: Caucasian. Place of 
residence:  London, Great Britain. Occupation: Student..........."   
	Name... The word rang a bell in her mind. Camilla White... 
She felt that she _should_ know what that name meant to her, but 
couldn't remember what.   
	"I do not care about who she was." thundered that voice. "I 
want to know of what use she is to me, now."   
	"Of course, sir. Well, we had to start with the routine 
memory wipe and synaptic recalibration. Blanked her mind, and 
whatnot. We haven't yet started the subliminal and subconscious 
reconditioning, but a far as progress, we're  ahead of schedule by a 
day."   
	"I see." boomed the voice.   
	"As it is, sir," ingratiated the white coat, " she is a perfect 
specimen.  Young, healthy, strong...........all of the physical traits as 
per your requirements."   
	"What of the other requirements?"   
	"Oh, yes. Well, her records shouldn't be so hard to alter. The 
British System is known to have let a few of its citizens 'fall through the 
cracks' every now and then, so barely a soul will notice that all proof of 
her existence will vanish. No siblings, and all other family members are 
dead, or at least estranged."   
	*Family?* the words struck deep within her.   
	"Yes," boomed the voice, now coming nearer. "How surprising
that one of such beauty-"   
	A rough hand grasped her chin to look up.   
	"-will become my new secret weapon."  
	The face that filled her vision was a barely human face. It was 
the face of a beast, dark skin that was rough and weathered, sharp teeth 
in a hideous grin. But the most frightening thing of all was his eyes.  
	The darkness and terrible menace that was reflected in those 
eyes shook her to her very soul, even in her current state. She knew 
nothing about this man, except that she feared him. She did recognize 
him, but how?  
	"A pity her family had to be...dissuaded. They could have 
been of some use to me as well."  
	That was it. Something inside her opened up. Memories, 
stark and static, flashed through her mind like sheet lightning.  
	She could remember non-images, which at one point would 
be as clear as summer's sunlight, and at the next moment would be 
gone as a soap bubble would burst.  
	She remembered..............what? Images of two people, older 
than her no doubt, but familiar. A man and woman, and they were 
looking at her with eyes filled with emotion, but what was it?  
	Could it have been love?  
				  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
			      Studio Fan Presents 
 
			           DESCENT 
 
			   A Tale Of Cammy White 

			      Millenium Edition
 
			   By Darrick Chen
 
	         Street Fighter is trademark and copyright of Capcom 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was sometime in the evening, early fog rolling in from the 
bay. Off in the distance, there was a clock  sounding, a big clock.   
	"Look", a warm female voice said. "Big Ben is ringing the 
hour. Look, Cammy, isn't it a wonderful old thing?"  
	"Yes, Mum," someone said, and she realized it was her. 
Then, was her name Cammy? "It is rather nice."  
	Another voice. This time deep and manly, no less full of 
warmth.  
	"Yes, it is rather nice. Sadly, it's been falling into disrepair 
of course. And the bloody Parliament isn't willing to allocate what's 
needed to preserve it."  
	"Oh, Lionel, must you be so pessimistic about everything?" 
The woman's voice scolded in a loving tone.   
	"I'm not pessimistic, I'm just saying it's a shame, that's all."
	"Even so, do hush up and try to enjoy yourself. After all. it's 
our daughter's birthday, today."  
	He smiled. "I suppose it is, at that. Very well."
	There was suddenly an object in her hands. A small parcel, 
wrapped in paper.  
A present.  
	"Happy birthday, darling"  
	"Oh, Dad, thank you!" She quickly removed the bright 
packaging to reveal a jewelry box, which she opened. Her eyes fell on 
a pendant, an angel made of silver, its arms and wings plated with gold 
and spread wide, seemingly to receive heavenly illumination.  
	"It's beautiful." she breathed.  
	"It's a genuine St.Thomasina's Angel." The man who was her 
father explained. "They take ages to make. I had to trek all the way to 
a Belgian Cathedral on one of my trips to get it."  
	"Then, this must have been terribly expensive."  
	"Actually, it was quite cheap, considering..."  
	"Cosidering?" she asked.  
	"Considering the happiness I could bring to my dearest little 
girl on her sixteenth birthday."  
	She fought tears. "Daaaaddd........." She tried to fake 
annoyance. "You know I don't like to be called 'little girl', anymore."  
	"Don't care. You'll always be my little dark horse. Besides, I 
had to deal with Frenchmen to get this gift, so I think I deserve at least 
the privilege of calling you so."  
	They laughed, all three of them together. Then, her mother 
pulled back her long twin pigtails, so she could snap the pendant into 
place around her neck.
	"Honestly, Camilla." her mother said. "Perhaps you should 
reconsider this hairdo of yours."  
	"Mum......." Cammy sighed. "I like my hair this way. No one 
else at my school has hair like this."  
	"Yes, we know." her father sighed. "We've gotten more than 
one conference with Sister Angelina about it. She says it's distracting."
	"That's the point. It makes me stand out, noticeable. It's bad 
enough we have to wear those silly uniforms, but at least there wasn't 
anything in the school code about hair."  
	"You yourself might change that, my dear." her father stated.   
	Suddenly, they noticed they weren't alone anymore.  
	Men, about seven of them, and dressed all in red and black, 
had come seemingly out of nowhere and surrounded them. Instinctively, 
Cammy's father drew her closer to him, as well as his wife.  
	"Here now, you lot." he said,  nervous quaver almost making 
its way into his voice. "What's the meaning of this?"  
	Silence. The men in black parted ranks to admit someone 
who was obviously their leader. He was a huge and imposing man, 
sheathed in a voluminous black cloak. His features were obscured 
beneath a red general's cap, though the headwear wasn't from any 
acknowledged militia in the world. The man spoke.  
	"Are you Lionel White?"  
	"I am." Cammy's father admitted, taking out a pair of wire-
rimmed glasses so as to see who was talking to him.  
	"I am known simply as Bison." the huge man said. "I have 
need of you."  
	"Do you." Lionel said. "What need would this be, exactly?"  
	"I am the leader of what you might call a 'small' military 
movement in Thailand."  
	"Is that so."  
	"And as a leader, I need to be able to support my men and 
soldiers. Of  late, I find that the British Armed Forces are becoming 
quite troublesome in my efforts to acquire supplies within the 
isles..........."  
	"Pity."  
	"Yes. MI-6 and its allies are quite annoying. But that is of  
little importance at the moment. Right now, for I have found you."  
	"Again, I ask, what need have you of me?" Lionel stepped 
back a little, grasping his family closer to him.  
	"You are the head of MI-6's arms trade department. You will 
sign the order to ship munitions, vehicles, and other supplies to my 
base in Spain, where one of my men, Vega, will find them."  
	"And why would I do such a thing?" Lionel stalled, voice 
surprisingly steady.  
	A hideous smile traveled across Bison's face.  
	"You have two fairly good reasons right here." he rumbled  
malevolently, gesturing to her and her mother, and they cowered 
under his gaze.  
	"You have a point." Lionel said. "Well, it would seem that I 
have no choice but to comply, don't I."  
	"It would seem not."  
	"Then, we'll just be on our way...."  
	"Not just yet."  
	Suddenly the men who surrounded them began to close in.
	Bison growled. "I am not so stupid, Mr.White. As soon as 
you were out  of my sight, you would have notified your contact at MI-6, 
a Colonel Wolfman.  I can't allow that. Therefore, we will be taking a bit 
of collateral, until you have made good on our deal."  
	At that, the men took rough hold of her, restraining her arms 
with their rough hands so she could not struggle.  
	Her father and mother were aghast at the sight of her in the 
clutches of the red and black men. 
	"Do not worry." Bison rumbled, as he grinned obscenely at 
the pair.  "We will take good care of her. There is always a place for 
such a sprightly young thing in the body ranks of the Shadowlaw 
forces." 
	Bison began to laugh, deep, malevolent, horrible laughter as 
the men began to drag her away. 
	Cammy began to cry out, to break away from the men who 
had her.  Suddenly, her father drew his service issue pistol out from 
underneath his suit jacket. He raised it at the big man. 
	Her father's eyes were wild with fear and anger. "Unhand my  
Daughter, you sodding pillock." he demanded in a shaking voice. 
	Bison was silent, as the men stopped. For a moment, they all 
stood there: The men still grasping her by the shoulders as she 
watched the scene play out in front of her, the man known as Bison 
standing like a monolith, towering over the slim Englishman that was 
her father, who was still training the pistol at his chest. Her mother, 
eyes wide with fear as she held her hands to her heart, standing behind 
her husband, looking back and forth between him and his gun, and to 
her in the clutches of the red and black men. 
	Cammy remembered that look in her mother's eyes, and 
always would. It was a look of fear that had a disappearing glimmer of 
hope. How strange it was, then, because it seemed that her mother 
had been able to see one second into their grim future, for those eyes 
had a message in them, as well.  
	The message was: Farewell, my child. 
	In that split second, time that had been frozen now 
reassumed its horrible course. Bison moved to stand in front of her, so 
Cammy couldn't see what happened in that moment of terrible violence. 
All she could remember was a flash of brilliant light, a scream, and a 
shot issuing from her father's gun, now falling useless to the alley floor. 
	It was over as quickly as it had begun, and Bison made a 
grunting sound as he brought his cloak about him. 
	"Such a wasted effort." he said in a disgusted tone. 
	"Sir." one of the men to her right said. "Are you all right?" 
	Bison made no movement to cover the blood trickling from his 
upper arm. He looked at it, grunted again. 
	"Pay it no mind." he rumbled. "The pain will remind me not to  
underestimate even those who seem harmless. Lionel White was a 
good shot, if a foolish man." 
	Then he moved out of the way and she _saw_. 
	Her parents lay on the ground in a pool of their own blood. 
They were not splayed about, like those scenes from horror movies. 
Rather, they had fallen alongside one another, in such a way that it 
seemed that they had simply fallen asleep in each other's arms.  
	But Cammy knew now that it was the embrace of death that 
had claimed them. Her face went slack, her eyes frozen in an 
unblinking stare at the still forms of her mother and father. Those who 
had given her life had had it taken away from them. 
	"A pity." Bison continued. "I suppose I will have to find 
another way to get the weapons." 
	"Sir." someone said. "What will we do with her?" She barely  
remembered that they were talking about her. 
	"Leave her." Bison said. "She is of no use and of no threat to 
me now."  He then turned to leave. 
	Then, something inside of Camilla White, age sixteen, 
snapped. With a  scream of anguish and crazed fury, she attacked the 
man closest to her. 
	The calm and cheerful schoolgirl became a whirling frenzy of 
flailing arms and legs as she bit, clawed, and kicked her way past the 
unassuming red and black men, and hurled herself at the man who had 
just killed her parents. 
	Bison regarded her approach with the same neutral look that 
he had afforded her father's attempt at a threat. She no longer felt her 
body, her legs pumping, her arms outstretched to throttle, beat, or in 
some way destroy this monster that had taken away everything dear 
to her. 
	Then there was that same brilliant, blinding flash of light and 
she found herself flying back into the far wall, where she hit, her head 
bouncing off the hard brick, and then slid to the ground. 
	Pain like nothing she had felt before surged behind her eyes 
as she tried to focus her now rapidly blurring vision. 
	She looked up to see the big man hovering over her, blank 
eyes glowing slightly. Then, something hard under her chin. The barrel 
of a gun. 
	"Shall I finish her, sir?" someone said. 
	For a second, silence. Then: 
	"No." Bison commanded. "She is most fierce indeed. 
Perhaps I can find a use for her after all." Then he laughed that same 
menacing laugh that shook her to her very soul, even in her present 
state. 
	It had started to rain, and she felt the cool drops of water fall 
onto  her face as she started to slip into darkness, the sound of his 
terrible filling her ears. As she did so, she struggled to hold on to the 
last memory she had of her mother. 
	_Farewell_ 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
	Now that she was awake, imprisoned, she remembered. 
	Family.  
	Love.  
	Happiness.  
	Danger.  
	Bison.  
	Threats.  
	Being taken.  
	Bison.  
	A gun.  
	BISON.  
	A flash of deadly light. 
	BISON!  
	DEATH!  
	PAIN!  
	BISON!  
	GRIEF!  
	SUFFERING!  
	_BISON!_ 
	Her eyes flew open to stare murderously at the man who face 
had burned its way into her mind and soul. The man who had destroyed 
her family, her life, had destroyed _her_. 
	"_BISON!!!!!!!_"  
	The death cry ripped from her throat as she suddenly threw 
herself away from the chair she had been strapped to. The metal 
restraints that had held her previously had been removed so the Doctor 
could administer "treatment" to her susceptible form. The only thing 
that had kept her down were the leather straps, and those somehow 
tore away like tissue paper as she leapt up and forward towards Bison. 
Death was in her eyes once again. 
	Instead of a flash of light, he merely swung his arm in a wide 
arc and backhanded her. 
	The universe exploded for Cammy as she was sent spinning 
to the floor. She felt the cold, hard tile. 
	Bison bent down and grasped her face with his hand. She 
could see his glowing eyes, mouth with teeth like sharp rocks splitting 
into a grin as she chuckled. 
	"What did I tell you, Doctor?" he laughed. "Fierce, wild, and 
savage. Uninhibited." 
	"Indeed." the Doctor said, clearing his throat nervously. 
	"She will make a fine addition to Shadowlaw, once her..... 
`training' is complete. But there is one lesson that needs to be learned 
now." 
	Suddenly, her vision was nothing but white, as Bison's hand 
blazed with that same deadly light. 
	Bison's face contorted into a cold, grisly mask. 
	"You will learn that I am your master." he commanded. "You 
will serve me and only me. And soon." 
	She heard herself scream and felt an intense searing pain 
alongside her left cheek. The world went blank for a second.......... 
	And she found herself back in the chair, the Doctor now 
hurrying to secure her within the metal restraints once again. The 
burning pain on her face was not going away, but she couldn't care at 
the moment. 
	"Make sure this does not happen again." Bison rumble. "Or 
it will be you who faces my wrath." 
	"Yes sir." the Doctor sniveled, clamping shut the strap locks. 
He picked up a syringe. "We'll start deprogramming right away. After 
that, we will begin on her physical reconditioning. The Killer Bee project 
will continue." 
	"Good." Bison said. "Vega expressed an interest in training 
her, personally. He will be pleased, no doubt." Bison turned on his heel 
and began to walk from the chamber. 
	"Sir!" the Doctor called after him. The dictator stopped and 
glared over his shoulder. 
	The Doctor withered under Bison's threatening gaze. "Er... 
should I repair the scar on her face?" he stammered. 
	Bison thought for a moment, and then answered. 
	"No." he said. "Leave it.  A momento." 
	With that, he left, muttering, "Yes, she will make a fine 
Shadowlaw soldier. Perhaps I will even make her one of my personal 
guard......" 
	The Doctor poked the syringe into her arm, and Cammy felt 
the world slipping away again. 
	As she did, her head lolled to one side and her eyes fell on 
the nearby instruments tray that was suspended by a metal arm 
connected to her chair. On it were scalpels, needles, and other 
paraphernalia, but one item stood out among the gleaming metal tools. 
	It was an angel, made of silver with wings of gold.  
	And its arms were outstretched, as if to offer hope. 
	Her eyes stayed on it, even as the world went black and she 
was thrust into darkness once again. 

				      THE END 
					?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- 
 
	*Whew* 
	Hello, folks. 
	Welcome to the updated "Millenium Edition" of Descent. It's 
been just about three years since it's initial release, and I figured I'd 
take the opportunity to tweak a few things I was un happy with last time.
	It's safe to assume that many of you have questions regarding 
the twisted little tale above, and I'll do my best to answer them. 
 
	1.) Why a story about Cammy? 
	Why not? She's my favorite Street Fighter character, right 
after Sakura and before Rose. 
 
	2.) Why, of all things, a darkfic? (A darkfic is a fanfiction that 
is quite somber and dark in content, for those of you not "in the know".) 
	Cammy is perhaps one of the most tragic female characters 
in the SF universe, so a tale about her run-in with Bison should be 
nothing less than "dark" in nature. All Cammy fanfics I've run into on 
the `net deal with her life _after_ the game. After playing X-Men VS 
Street Fighter, her Alpha-style character design and backstory 
somewhat influenced this story. In fact, I was going to draw this out 
much farther and detail the events that led her to MI-6. But, I've deigned 
to save that tale for another day. 
 
	3.) When does this story take place, and in which continuity? 
The movie, Japanese TV series, American TV series, manga, or game?
(NOTE: The 1994 US-produced movie has been excluded. This is, in 
many respects, a good thing. :)) 
	A hefty question, as there are many different versions of the 
SF saga. This takes place before all of the above, and then deviates a 
little. After the events in this fic, Cammy goes on to become Bison's 
personal guard, as seen in XMVSSF. She then somehow escapes and 
then ends up in MI-6, as seen in the Cammy serialized comic in Viz 
Communications' now defunct game/manga magazine GAME ON! In 
fact, the "Colonel Wolfman" mentioned in this fic appears, if briefly, in 
that manga, which was authored by Masahiko Nakahira, who is the 
best Street Fighter manga artist ever.

	4.) Why a re-release? What's the difference?
	To be honest, not much. All I've really done is fix some 
dialogue here and there. This rerelease was inspired by 
CammyFan.Com, so I figured it wouldn't be proper to simply just dust 
off an old file without making a few improvements.

In closing, thanks to Stefan and CammyFan.Com, whose very 
existence inspired this rerelease! Be on the lookout for more Cammy 
fics, now that I have THE best Cammy info site as a resource.


Later,

Dare

dare2live@hotmail.com