Iron Fist Tournament 4
By: Dionne
A/N: I started something similar to this a while back, if all clearly recall. But Archangel rejuvenated my inspiration. (Thanks so much, dude!) A few notes: The story line outside of the tournament will mainly be involving the younger generation (no disrespect to the elders. Without them, there'd be no Tekken. But everyone knows about them). I don't believe that Jin's an angel anymore, and you won't be seeing much 'goodness' from him. Nina and Steve, in my eyes, are related, and I'll leave the connection vague. I don't believe in Jin/Julia pairings, Hwoarang/Xiayou pairings, Jin/Xiayou pairings, and Hwoarang/Julia pairings. And by the way, if no one notices, I'm making Ling a bit more mature. ^_^
Disclaimer: Tekken and all of its characters belong to Namco and its affiliates.
Chapter 1: Same Script, Different Cast
Sydney…
The paradox of time and space was suspended. Darkness swirled, and light attempted penetration. Jin Kazama leapt from his calm meditative seat, and launched a roundhouse kick to the faded punching bag. It swung on the chain, but it didn't break. He kept his left fist by his jaw, and sent his right fist to the bag. Satisfying himself, he grabbed a towel from the bench and draped it about his shoulders. A young boy about six years his junior offered a respectful smile, and pinned up a flyer. He scampered off to his own sensei and Jin's eyes skimmed the paper. Immediately, he gave utterance to a slight cry as he lifted his left leg three feet in the air, and sent it sailing to the punching bag. Though his countenance remained constant, he surprised himself when grains slowly seeped from the bag…
* * * * * * * * *
Sao Paolo…
The sun cast a hazy glare over the streets. A few men banged on drums while the pedestrians danced or shopped in the market. Eddy Gordo smirked as he peered at his pupil and friend Christie Monteiro. She smiled at him as she danced with a young boy. The smirk dissolved from Eddy's face as a bald man decked in black approached. Christie frowned a bit, and the boy darted away.
"Miss," handing her an envelope and disappearing as quickly as he came. She walked over to Eddy, and he skimmed the notice with her.
You are cordially invited to The Fourth Iron First Tournament.
A plane ticket to Tokyo bulked down the envelope. He frowned, and Christie swallowed as a bulk of anticipation formed in her throat. Even as a bit of fear crept over her, she couldn't help but grin.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Seoul…
The moon gave light to a Harley speeding along a dock. It gave a sigh as the engine shut off, and the young rider stepped off. The redheaded, Korean youth had been changed by the military; he barely knew himself anymore. Traces of what he used to be were lost and fragmented. He was now a man; focused, skilled…empty. He sighed, and pulled a cigarette from the pocket of his camouflage pants. The tight, forest green shirt hugged his torso and drew attention to his well-built abdomen. His jacket flapped in the wind as he decided against the cigarette, and placed it behind his ear. He moved his hand through his newly cut spiky hair, and looked back over the port. His eyes caught sight of a flyer flapping from his back wheel. He pulled the tattered leaf, and skimmed over it.
Fourth Iron Fist Tournament
The other words were smudged off, but that was all he needed to see. He smirked a bit, and got back on his bike.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Miami…
The sun shone brightly, burning the cement and tar to a crisp. From Little Havana, heartfelt guitar riffs danced about the air. Women and men danced about the streets, and children sipped bits of their parent's expressos while no one was looking. Dionne DeLavega smiled, and joined her friends on the streets. Her black bandana skirt swished, and her top cut off at her mid torso, and fell off her shoulders, showing off her curves. Her jet-black mane flowed down her back. She smiled, feeling comfortable in her surroundings, and sang along to the song. As she began to lose herself in the festivities, she felt a hand go down the front of her skirt, and trace fingers up her navel. She turned around but the person was gone. She still felt a presence at the waist of her skirt. She looked down, and pulled an envelope out. She skimmed it, and smiled, looking around. No one seemed to notice, so she simply disappeared in the crowd, and went home to her apartment to begin packing.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rome…
The pavement winced as the rough rubber of sneakers rubbed against it. Shallow breathing caused the wind to stir, and the heaving torso pushed the rest of the body on. Steve Fox turned and spotted his suitors, and once more turned around to continue running. He darted into a crowded piazza, and eventually dashed behind a column. He looked out, and noticed the men had kept running, and were combing the crowd for the British, fair skinned, blonde boxer. He allowed himself to slip to the dirty floor, and he attempted to steady his breathing and bring down his heart rate. He swallowed a bit, and he heard a soft voice behind him. Though the voice spoke English, his rough Italian accent refused to allow him to disguise his nativity.
"Looking for a way out of here, young one?"
Steve stood up, and narrowed his eyes at the man to decide if he could trust him or not, "What's it to you?"
The man smiled, completely amused, "Take this," offering him an envelope.
Steve examined the man, and then the envelope. He frowned, but finally took it. The man chuckled a bit, and Steve opened it to examine the contents. "Hey, what's…" as he looked up, the man had disappeared from sight. He pursed his lips, and skimmed the notice. He moved it, and discovered a ticket to Tokyo. He sighed, and finally looked around.
"Tokyo, here I come."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Hong Kong…
Ling Xiayou arrived home from her aerobics class, and slipped her slender arm from her jacket. She used the front of her shoes to remove the opposite foot, and slipped off her socks. She stretched her leg behind her back, and switched on her radio while simultaneously using her index finger to turn on her PC. Her radio blasted sensuous sounds of Enigma. She took a seat, and logged on the Internet. A short monkey popped up on her screen, alerting her of new e-mail. She smiled, and clicked the notice. It automatically logged her in, and she instantly deleted all garbage and Spam. She opened the fist important-looking letter, and she skimmed it:
Be careful Xiayou. Beware of gold that glistens and turns, and beware of unnecessary battles.
She frowned, and simply moved on to the next e-mail:
You are cordially invited to The Fourth Iron Fist Tournament. Please redeem you plane tickets as soon as possible.
The letter went on to give flight information, and a code to give to the check-in desk. She immediately gasped. The words of the last letter rang clear in her mind. She swallowed, and printed out both letters as she turned off her PC.
* * * * * * * * *
Tokyo…
Heihachi Mishima laced his fingers together, and brought them to his mouth. His personal secretary sauntered in wearing a black mini pinstripe skirt with a matching jacket. She hugged a file to her chest, and her pouty lips parted slightly to deliver her news: "All taken care of, sir. The associates from Brazil, Italy, and Florida have all reported success."
He smiled, "Very good, Sakari,"
She nodded, and turned on her heels, leaving the office.
He grinned, "Come out, come out wherever you are, my son. The time has arrived."
* * * * * * * * * *
A/N: You guys must be sick of hearing from me after the earful I gave you up there. Sorry. =\ Be a doll, and review when you get the chance. I know this chapter is pretty short, but I'm trying to keep them all short. Maybe that way, I'll have more readers. ^_^ xoxo- Di