Okay, this one is much better than my Dragonball fic, I promise. That one started out good, but when I started reading what I had written from the second chapter onward, I discovered that it was crap, so that one is being revised. For now, you can see my Tekken story -.- (which was written over a summer or two in extreme bouts of boredom and insanity, and purely for my own amusement).
This one is about me and my best friend Cheryl being CIA agents in the Tekken universe, but you can find that out for yourselves I'm sure.
By the way, I don't own Tekken (or any of it's characters), which belongs to Namco, and I definitely don't own the CIA. That would be fun, though, wouldn't it? I do, however, own myself, and Cheryl owns herself, and if you use us in some other fanfiction (who knows why you would, but just in case) we'll hunt you down with poison-tipped sporks and kill you.
Oh, one last thing, I don't mind flames at all, but if you're going to criticize my work, please have the sense to make yourself look at least semi-intelligent and use proper grammar, don't use the caps lock, and don't betray your limited vocabulary by spouting the 'f' word every five seconds. When I actually had a website, this was a big problem. People like that give me severe migraines. The thing about poison-tipped sporks applies to you people too, but I'll first torture you with duct tape, cod liver oil, and snake skin covered in Vaseline (which I also don't own). And since you hate my work so much, I'll read it aloud to you for eight days without pause before I maim you.
ONWARD!!!
It was a sunny summer day in Miami when Kiley and her partner and best friend Cheryl were called into work. Kiley was mulling over this very thought along with all the other things the two could be doing at the moment while, instead, they waited outside their boss' office.
Her medium length blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail high on top of her head and she was wearing casual jeans and a beige colored blouse. Cheryl's hair was, as usual, in a bun, and she wore a similar outfit with a denim vest. They had been shopping when the call from work came on Cheryl's cell phone, and since they had thought they had the day off, casual dress was the order of the day. After weeks of wearing nothing but business suits for hours on end, they had a day off coming. Apparently, today was not that day.
"Jack will see you now." the secretary called over to them after they had been sitting, twiddling their thumbs, for an hour.
The second they walked in the door, Kiley nearly got smacked in the face with a briefing folder and a pair of airplane tickets. "Those are for you." Their boss said hastily while searching his desk from top to bottom feverishly. Kiley flipped through the folder then examined the tickets.
"Tokyo, Jack? That's just a little out of our jurisdiction, isn't it?" one eyebrow rose. Cheryl immediately grabbed the tickets to inspect them for herself.
"Yeah, well, headquarters in Langley told me to send you." Jack sighed, seating himself and motioning for the girls to do the same.
"Headquarters? This sounds big." Cheryl said while still looking over the tickets.
"It is big. Quit trying to figure out if those tickets are real and look at your briefings." Jack snapped, annoyed. Cheryl set the tickets down on his desk and looked at the folder over Kiley's shoulder. Kiley skimmed over the first few pages and then came across what looked like two passes.
"The King of Iron Fist Tournament 4..." she read. Underneath the passes was a filled out registration form for herself. "You want me to enter this?"
"You're a martial artist, aren't you?"
"Hardly good enough to compete. Much less in an international championship." She replied dryly.
"Aw, come on, where's your sense of spirit?" Jack leaned forward whilst making the sarcastic remark.
"Isn't the US already represented by that bonehead Paul Phoenix?" Kiley asked with just a hint of disgust. Cheryl glanced over at Kiley with a raised eyebrow. Just the night before, she had been saying how fine Paul Phoenix was. Maybe it was the booze talking.
"Yes, but that hardly matters," Jack replied chuckling, "Japan alone has had as many as six competitors at once in previous tournaments. Besides, this year I think Great Britain will be having several as well..." Kiley merely stared at him blankly.
"You're not required to win." Jack went on, "You're going to enter the tournament to gather information on the Mishima Conglomerate."
"Mishima?" Cheryl reiterated.
"Heihachi Mishima to be exact, the founder of the 'Mishima Zaibatsu,' and the man who organizes these tournaments, is said to have dealings with international drug lords, terrorists, arms dealers, and God knows what else. That's what you're investigating. Somewhere in that folder is a map of the island you'll be competing on. We've highlighted the Mishima compounds where illegal materials are suspected to be hidden. On your free time, that's what you two will be checking out."
"Pardon, sir," Cheryl said after a pause, "but why not leave this up to the Japanese government?"
"We would love to, but not much has been done to suppress the Zaibatsu's power. We suspect bribery on Heihachi's part. And cheer up, Kiley, Heihachi Mishima was once titled the greatest martial artist in the world, but he's quite old now. You might even win this thing!" Jack smiled.
"Might I get some information on my opponents, Jack?" Kiley inquired after giving him a sour look.
"Most of the names have yet to be released," Jack said, putting his feet up on his desk, reading through another file, "but Heihachi will definitely be there, and yes, Paul Phoenix will most likely also be there, having won the last tournament," Kiley snorted, "now, off with you, I've got stuff to do." Jack waved them away, and the girls went home to prepare for their assignment.
This one is about me and my best friend Cheryl being CIA agents in the Tekken universe, but you can find that out for yourselves I'm sure.
By the way, I don't own Tekken (or any of it's characters), which belongs to Namco, and I definitely don't own the CIA. That would be fun, though, wouldn't it? I do, however, own myself, and Cheryl owns herself, and if you use us in some other fanfiction (who knows why you would, but just in case) we'll hunt you down with poison-tipped sporks and kill you.
Oh, one last thing, I don't mind flames at all, but if you're going to criticize my work, please have the sense to make yourself look at least semi-intelligent and use proper grammar, don't use the caps lock, and don't betray your limited vocabulary by spouting the 'f' word every five seconds. When I actually had a website, this was a big problem. People like that give me severe migraines. The thing about poison-tipped sporks applies to you people too, but I'll first torture you with duct tape, cod liver oil, and snake skin covered in Vaseline (which I also don't own). And since you hate my work so much, I'll read it aloud to you for eight days without pause before I maim you.
ONWARD!!!
It was a sunny summer day in Miami when Kiley and her partner and best friend Cheryl were called into work. Kiley was mulling over this very thought along with all the other things the two could be doing at the moment while, instead, they waited outside their boss' office.
Her medium length blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail high on top of her head and she was wearing casual jeans and a beige colored blouse. Cheryl's hair was, as usual, in a bun, and she wore a similar outfit with a denim vest. They had been shopping when the call from work came on Cheryl's cell phone, and since they had thought they had the day off, casual dress was the order of the day. After weeks of wearing nothing but business suits for hours on end, they had a day off coming. Apparently, today was not that day.
"Jack will see you now." the secretary called over to them after they had been sitting, twiddling their thumbs, for an hour.
The second they walked in the door, Kiley nearly got smacked in the face with a briefing folder and a pair of airplane tickets. "Those are for you." Their boss said hastily while searching his desk from top to bottom feverishly. Kiley flipped through the folder then examined the tickets.
"Tokyo, Jack? That's just a little out of our jurisdiction, isn't it?" one eyebrow rose. Cheryl immediately grabbed the tickets to inspect them for herself.
"Yeah, well, headquarters in Langley told me to send you." Jack sighed, seating himself and motioning for the girls to do the same.
"Headquarters? This sounds big." Cheryl said while still looking over the tickets.
"It is big. Quit trying to figure out if those tickets are real and look at your briefings." Jack snapped, annoyed. Cheryl set the tickets down on his desk and looked at the folder over Kiley's shoulder. Kiley skimmed over the first few pages and then came across what looked like two passes.
"The King of Iron Fist Tournament 4..." she read. Underneath the passes was a filled out registration form for herself. "You want me to enter this?"
"You're a martial artist, aren't you?"
"Hardly good enough to compete. Much less in an international championship." She replied dryly.
"Aw, come on, where's your sense of spirit?" Jack leaned forward whilst making the sarcastic remark.
"Isn't the US already represented by that bonehead Paul Phoenix?" Kiley asked with just a hint of disgust. Cheryl glanced over at Kiley with a raised eyebrow. Just the night before, she had been saying how fine Paul Phoenix was. Maybe it was the booze talking.
"Yes, but that hardly matters," Jack replied chuckling, "Japan alone has had as many as six competitors at once in previous tournaments. Besides, this year I think Great Britain will be having several as well..." Kiley merely stared at him blankly.
"You're not required to win." Jack went on, "You're going to enter the tournament to gather information on the Mishima Conglomerate."
"Mishima?" Cheryl reiterated.
"Heihachi Mishima to be exact, the founder of the 'Mishima Zaibatsu,' and the man who organizes these tournaments, is said to have dealings with international drug lords, terrorists, arms dealers, and God knows what else. That's what you're investigating. Somewhere in that folder is a map of the island you'll be competing on. We've highlighted the Mishima compounds where illegal materials are suspected to be hidden. On your free time, that's what you two will be checking out."
"Pardon, sir," Cheryl said after a pause, "but why not leave this up to the Japanese government?"
"We would love to, but not much has been done to suppress the Zaibatsu's power. We suspect bribery on Heihachi's part. And cheer up, Kiley, Heihachi Mishima was once titled the greatest martial artist in the world, but he's quite old now. You might even win this thing!" Jack smiled.
"Might I get some information on my opponents, Jack?" Kiley inquired after giving him a sour look.
"Most of the names have yet to be released," Jack said, putting his feet up on his desk, reading through another file, "but Heihachi will definitely be there, and yes, Paul Phoenix will most likely also be there, having won the last tournament," Kiley snorted, "now, off with you, I've got stuff to do." Jack waved them away, and the girls went home to prepare for their assignment.