I've been around the world, and I've kicked a lot of asses. Here you will read of my most proud moments, the days in which I rose triumphant above the "World Warriors". It's a bunch of hooey. These chumps had no idea what was coming to them. Some attacked me, I attacked some, so it all pretty much evens out. To spread the wealth, I put half here, and half on The 7th Level. Go there, if you can handle more ass-kickery than can be contained by this page. And now, Let the (recaps of) beatings begin! Balrog: "Hi, my name is Mike Tyson, err, Balrog!" I spotted this mark in Vegas, where I was rolling high and hitting low. I was rolling down the strip in my fly ride, and I saw him on the corner, so I did what anyone would do, and crashed into his ass. He took a hit from a car surprisingly well, because he got up. I hopped out of the car like Bo (or Luke) Duke, and jump kicked him in the face. He stumbles and falls into a crowd of Japanese tourists, and they flash so many pictures of him that he is blinded. I grab him by his collar, and start letting him know what's going on. I use my fists, and not words. I must have hit this guy like 50 times, because I was pretty sore the next day. I'll go ahead and let you know how badass I am, he used to be white. Guile: Ok, this one was personal. I'm in the Air Force, and his whole outfit is out of regulations. From his hair to his boots, it's all just wrong, and he's supposed to be a Colonel? Hell naw. I caught up with him at a secret base outside of Oklahoma, and to protect myself from any charges or disciplinary action, I wore a ski mask, and kept calling him "Cracker". I grabbed him by his face and slammed him into a dumpster, sending him into a state of pure wtfness. I grabbed ahold of his dog tags, spun him around like a helicopter, and sent him flying. I let him catch a little bit of his breath before I strolled over and stood over him. He looked up at me with a fear that no man should know. I grabbed him by his hair, placed my foot on his forehead and ripped out a chunk of his golden locks, I still have it in a jar in my room. Ken: I found this corny motherfucker running around in Frisco. I suspected he might be there, since he's obviously gay. Look at that hair, he looks like my middle school female gym teacher. He was camping out in an burger joint with his wife Eliza. I saw him from about 3 blocks away, and started running towards him. I had such a great speed going, that I swear I broke the sound barrier. About 20 feet from the window, I take flight, feet first. I come crashing through the window with such force, it shattered all of the remaining windows in the place. I don't remember too much after that, due to the adrenaline, but when I woke up, I was in the back of a squad car, and his wife was crying, talking to some cops. I picked the lock on my cuffs, kicked the door open, and stole into the night. M. Bison: This is one of those times where I was doing nothing to bring on a fight. There is a difference between being violent, and being driven to violence. I was enjoying a nice day in the park, and this twat comes flying at me out of nowhere. My cat-like reflexes surely saved me on that day. I did a badass He-Man roll to the side and kicked him so hard that he flew off like 3 blocks away. I stood ready, waiting for another chance to strike, but he never returned. I saw later on the news that he had smashed into a building and it toppled on him. Not a good story, but you have to admit that I was quite suave with the roll and the kick. Ryu: This was probably my favorite fight, because it took so much effort to get underway. I see Ryu in a random mountain range outside of Japan, where I go yearly to practice my air guitar. He glances at me, and then looks away very quickly, like I'm not going to notice that he saw me. I start trailing him, yelling obscenities the entire time, and he still acts like I don't exists. I try everything, insulting his mother, throwing rocks, everything short of actuall touching him. I want this fight to be fair. He finally stops, and drops his bag. He reels back to throw a punch at me, and I grab his fist mid-swing. I twist his arm to the side and drop him to his knees, and kick him in the face 3 times. He gets up fast, and I launch myself at him, fist leading the charge. He tries to dodge to the left, but I bring my left leg out and catch him in the neck, rendering him breathless. I take a couple steps back to where he is, gasping for air, and I kick sand into his face. I grab him by his leg and swing him like a bat, slamming him into a tree a couple times. Ok, I've had enough, time to move on. I wail really hard on my air guitar. Sagat: Might as well just call him "Fagat", heh. I know I have the adantage on this guy, because he only has one eye. Rumor is that I kicked his ass years ago, when I was an infant. I don't remember it, but it sounds like something I'd do. I meet up with him in a training dojo in Thailand. I was there because I wanted to see where the movie "Kickboxer" was filmed. He sees me from across the room, and flips me off. I was stunned, I didn't think they had the middle finger in Thailand. I motion him to the ring, and we get it on. He swings a couple times, I absorb the hits with my legs and sides, and return fire. I hit him in the chest with about 20 speedy punches, and bounce him off of the ropes. A straight jab to the mouth sends him to the ground. I drag him to the center of the ring, mount the top rope, and deliver a Macho Man flying elbow. He's done, and I'm hungry. I have lunch soon after. Thunder Hawk: I feel badly that my people have stolen so much from the Indians, but I don't feel bad about whooping T. Hawk's monkey ass. I was doing my monthly cattle drive through Texas, and he comes running out yelling something about firewater this and whiteface devil that, and it was really annoying. I dismounted my steed and mounted his face with my balls. I don't know why, but I just started bringing the pain to his forehead like I've never done to anyone before. I beat his head so long that the sun set and rose before I stopped. I hope that they got ahold of his dental records, because that's the only way they'd be able to identify him. I buried him on top of a mesa and let a couple feathers go. Zangief: Russians, those crazy Commie bastards. This guy had the nerve to come up to me in the middle of a blizzard with his briefs and chest hair, and demand a showdown. Of course I agreed, because you don't stop me from walking without me stopping you from walking. This one was fun, because I had the theme from Tetris in my head all day, so I just kept humming it as I kicked him in the legs over and over. He caught the wrath of the Spook Man that day. I actually got sick of kicking him. I ran to a hardware store and got a large pair of pliers, brought them back to the scene of the crime. I took the time to rip out every one of his hairs, from his asscrack to the inside of his nose. I even got his eyelids. He looked like a big buff version of Powder. It was pretty cool. That's about it. I know it was a rough journey, but I knew you could do it. As stated earlier, there is more of this at The 7th Level, so check it out if you want to see more, and stay very far away if you don't. If you don't like it, that means that you're gay. Not saying that I don't like gay people, I'm just saying that you might be one.