In the alleyway of a town he doesn’t know, waking up from an incident he doesn’t remember, M. Bison awakens from what was assumed to be his demise.

Despite the damage done to his person, his entire right arm a purplish red while an ugly scar runs along his pec and cheek, he feels little fatigue. His ghastly white eyes scan his surroundings, adjusting to be conscious once more.

As he gains his bearings, a question crosses his mind.

’Who… am I?’

He can’t seem to remember.