King of the Fighting Street: Megamix Alpha Zero XIII
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Genius? Madness? Geniously Mad? Mad Genius!
Albert Hayward Jennings IV, known as Alfie to his mum, and more colloquially as “The Mad Genius” to the world - a sobriquet he despised, but in his more calm moments, had to admit fit him well - was working on his latest suit of battle armor.
He was busily pre-programming all his recent opponent’s styles and maneuvers into the battle computer when he was distracted.
Usually, distracting the Mad Genius meant something was about to go “boom,” but luckily, he was not working on anything explosive at the time, and was thus spared.
He did, however, hit his head on the suit’s clear plastic faceplate when someone spoke in a well-modulated but emotionless voice behind him. “Master ... we have received a letter from a mysterious masked man offering to host the greatest fighting tournament known to man or machine.”
Jennings rubbed his head, trying to clear the swirling birds from his field of vision, and screeched. “Ow! How many times have I told you Shoot-Clones not to bother me when I am working on the Battlesuit Mk. 26?”
He turned towards the speaker. It was his Shoot-Clone Red. The leotard stretched to cover her muscular form, and she filled it out quite well. Others with her body would preen, and demand attention. She just accepted it the way she accepted everything else. Emotionless.
“Including this time, Master, this is the 14th time. That is, including the time you were talking in your sleep.”
That was one of the problems with creating your own harem of supermodel gun-toting clone bodyguards who could double as assassins in a pinch. If you gave them enough free will to not take your orders literally, they tended to end up using that free will to turn against you in a sudden yet inevitable betrayal.
However, Red showed none of that free will in her expression. To save time, Jennings just named his Shoot-Clones after the colors of the clothing they wore; it saved time.
“What makes this so different from all the other fighting tournaments I’ve been invited to? I mean, it’s nice to be recognized as the fighting genius and world-conquering intellectual that I am, but this is what, the fourth tournament I’ve been invited to, this month? What makes this so special?”
Red nodded.
“Normally, Master, I would have not bothered you with this ... but computer scans indicate that two of your targets would be attending this tournament, making this a higher priority on your notification list.”
Despite the fact that the throbbing pain in his head was clearly not going away anytime soon, Jennings felt his interest piqued by the information.
He asked, with a tinge of irritation in his voice. “I assume you’re going to tell me who the targets are?”
Red consulted a clipboard she carried with her.
“Yes, Master. The first target is the idol singer and fighter known as Kami-sama.”
If the Mad Genius’s interest was raised before, Red’s statement got his complete attention.
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