The Last Command
Chapter 1: Make Yourself Scarce
7 hours of noise and spine-shaking discomfort finally come to an end as the helicopter touches down on a helipad that emerges from the side of Gargoyle Tower like the vestigal limb of some ancient and twisted demon. If I've seen one supposed tough guy turn pale and swallow back a dry heave at the very sight of the place, I've seen a thousand, but me? For a year now, it's been home, or the closest to such a thing I've had since my childhood; a quiet room and a soft bed to crawl back to after another day spent hiding behind crumbling walls, white-hot shrapnel scraping my shoulders as the corpses around me became knee-deep, then waist-deep, all dying for a cause they knew nothing about. Put that way, it sounds like the worst job in the world, but hey – the pay was good (really good) and at least I didn't have to strangle any babies. That stuff always leaves me feeling a bit dirty afterwards.
As heavy-duty hydraulics retract the helipad back inside the building, I prise myself out of my seat – ugh, left buttcheek's gone to sleep – and lean through to the cockpit, turning to the pilot, still wearing full battle armour that makes him look like an angry robot from a demented artist's vision of the future, i.e. a little bit ridiculous.
"You don't talk to anyone about what you saw back there until you're officially debriefed – we don't want anyone panicking, understand?"
He nods before turning back to his controls; I doubt I need to worry about him keeping his silence. All Tekken Force soldiers have been subject to some nasty chemical conditioning since the 1st battalion revolted, so independent thought is a little beyond their ability now. Stepping out of the 'copter and holding down the edges of my jacket against the updraft caused by its rotors, I acknowledge the suit-wearing thugs that pass for security and head for the massive circular elevator, the rhytmic clicking of my heels on the bare metal floor echoing around the hangar and back to my ears. All the while, I can't help looking back over my shoulder, in case one of them makes an unfriendly move – stop worrying, woman, they don't even know what happened out there yet...
The elevator ascends to the top floor with shocking speed, and as the vertigo tugs at my guts, the full weight of all that's happened over the last twenty-four hours finally hits me. See, I'd been hired to protect Jin Kazama – you know him, the spiky-haired pretty boy turned bad – and help him in his effort to destabilise nations, render thousands dead and millions more homeless, and generally screw up the world big time. This was all for a good cause, though; Jin had gotten the idea that filling the planet with pain and suffering would bring some enormous genocidal demon into existence, and he actually wanted it to turn up just so he could kill it. I know, I know – that's the dumbest plan you've heard in your life. I wasn't too impressed with it either. "Why don't you just send a tank battalion down to its little tomb and blow it to kingdom come BEFORE it wakes up?" I asked. "You're in command of the largest army in the world! You don't have to do everything yourself!" But...well, that just isn't how Jin's mind works, is it? "I'm the only one who can stop it," he solemnly declared, somehow keeping a straight face as he did. Now, don't get me wrong; I didn't actually care about the kid or anything. That way lies madness, at least in my line of work. It's just...why bother going to all the trouble (and it was a LOT of trouble) of defending a guy who's only going to go and kill himself in the end? Sometimes, a girl needs more than just money to enjoy her work; a little feeing of accomplishment goes a long way. Anyway, it's all finished now. The big bad demon showed up as promised, and Jin took him down; one enormous flare of energy later, both the boy and the monster were gone. Didn't find any bodies when I checked the site – except for that Swedish prick, and he was still alive, annoyingly – but after an explosion like that, there wouldn't necessarily be much left. So I came back here, to pack my bags and leave the Mishima Zaibatsu before someone else ascends to the throne and decides they don't like having me around. Oh yes, and I've got one final task to attend to...
The elevator shudders to a halt once it reaches the 'perch', originally the throne room where guests were made to kneel before whichever Mishima was in charge that week, now converted into a teenage boy's idea of what a cool supervillain hideout would be. Another thing I never really understood about Jin; was he quietly poking fun at himself by designing his own quarters this way? Or was it more a reflection of his loathing for the Zaibatsu and, by extension, his family? So many mysteries, so little time. I press my hand into the silicon pad mounted on the armrest of Jin's chair; it illuminates a soft green as its sensitive surface registers my fingerprints, and the concealed door behind me opens with barely a sound. As I step through the opening, motion-triggered lights flicker into life, revealing an innocuous bank of computers that wouldn't look out of place in an accountant's office. And here I was expecting a nuclear missile silo with a big red button. Shame.
Now...what was it he said again?
***EGYPT
***TEMPLE OF THE RECTIFIER, FRONT GROUNDS
***11 HOURS EARLIER
It felt wrong. I don't know how else to describe it, but looking up at that temple, with its enormous, flat doorway extending from a sheer cliff face, flanked on both sides by thirty-foot statues of animal-headed gods with names that sounded like Italian appetisers, it took all the restraint I had not to shiver in apprehension. I am not, and never have been, superstitious, but...
"Don't look at it." Easy for you to say, Kazama. Your eyes are as drawn to it as mine.
Something explodes behind me, and finally I turn away, instead gazing to the sky as the G-Corp gunship hovering overhead belches smoke and fire from its side, a silvery vapour trail the only visible sign of the robot girl – Alisa – zipping circles around it. It doesn't crash, but its vulcan cannons fall silent, and it swings its tail around before beating a hasty retreat. Kazuya Mishima was on board; no doubt he's foaming at the mouth with rage, and almost ready to jump out from a hundred feet up. That'd be hilarious, especially if he fell on Alisa's saw-arms.
Not my business, though. Returning my gaze to Jin, I note the quick, erratic movements of his eyes – he's a taciturn and stoic sort of man, but I've been around him long enough now to recognise the tiny fluctuations in his expression and figure out what they mean. Right now, he's...paranoid? I guess that would explain waiting for Alisa and our escort chopper to leave before telling me whatever he's about to tell me. Not that he needs to – it's pretty obvious our partnership is over. What's surprising is how remorseful I'm feeling about it. Oh well...
"So," I start with a calmness I don't feel, "end of the line, huh?"
"Yes," he mumbles, almost to himself, before fixing me with a piercing gaze that burns right through me. "The end for me, at least. But you, Nina...I have one more favour to ask of you."
"What, stick around long enough to bury you after you're done? No thanks. It's not really my idea of a good victory celebration."
"Your humour never ceases to baffle me. And this is not a task for me – this is for the world I leave behind."
Melodramatic much? Still, I'm intrigued – there's a shine in his eyes I haven't seen before. "I'm listening."
"Destroying Azazel will prevent the apocalypse, but it won't stop Kazuya's ambition, or Heihachi's. Someone needs to take command of the Tekken Force and stand against them – "
"Not that I'm not flattered or anything," I interrupt, as a sinking feeling settles in my gut, "but I'm not really known for my inspirational leadership skills."
"No, you're not." The bluntness in his tone stings me a little, even if it is the truth. "I meant Lars."
Are you kidding me? "You're joking, right? After everything he's done to screw this whole operation up, you – I'm sorry, but that's just fucking stupid. I'd trust Paul Phoenix to lead an army before I'd give one to him!"
As I speak, Jin's mouth turns up into an apologetic – but slightly petulant – smile. Don't patronise me, kid – I'm not being paid nearly enough to turn the other cheek to that sort of thing. "I don't expect you to understand, Nina. But please, have faith in me when I say that this is the right course of action. What I do today will rid this planet of a potentially lethal cancer, but I have left many countries, and billions of people, in need of healing. Their voices cry out for a hero, someone incorruptible, to help them get back on their feet, and I have no desire to see them walk blindly into Kazuya's arms. Whatever problems I may have with Lars, however naive he may be, he is the right man for the job."
Well, at least we can both agree on his naivete. That's something, I suppose. "Okay, so what does all this have to do with me?"
"As soon as Heihachi learns I'm dead," he states calmly, no longer smiling, "which will not take long, he will return to the Zaibatsu and take control. As the eldest male in the Mishima bloodline, he's entitled to the CEO's position – his only obstacle is debunking the myths regarding his own supposed 'demise', and with the lawyers he can afford, that will be a matter of hours. So I need you to reach Gargoyle Tower before him, enter my private computer hub, and transfer all command protocols for the Tekken Force over to Lars."
"Right," I nod, already seeing the flaws in this plan, "but won't Heihachi just reverse the change as soon as he arrives?"
He shakes his head, and drops eye contact, suddenly bashful. "No, he won't be able to. I...set the system with a genetic lock before we left, and that lock will only open for your exact DNA profile. As of nine hours ago, you are the only person in the world authorised to use the Zaibatsu's central server."
Of course you did. I don't even try to hide the rueful smirk that creeps up on my face. "So I basically have to do what you say, since Heihachi's going to come after me anyway when he realises he can't change his desktop wallpaper without my help?"
The boy still can't bring himself to look at me as he mumbles, "Yes."
For a moment, I think about killing him. I imagine his eyes swelling in their sockets and staining red with oxygen starvation as I tighten my fingers around his neck, feeling bones grinding together before snapping like dry twigs. It wouldn't be hard, and at this range he's too close to fight back effectively. It'd be all he deserved for taking my future out of my hands, and the burning sensation in my heart tells me I'd enjoy it, too. But...no. He's going to die anyway, so this just doesn't seem fair, for want of a better word. And I suppose I really do wanna stick it to Heihachi, just for having the temerity to not be dead yet. Shallow? Why, yes I am, ma'am, and proud of it.
"Okay," I somehow growl out from between gritted teeth, "so, what? Do I get to go kill your grandpa now?"
He finally looks at me again, with scepticism bordering on disdain. Way to keep me on the payroll. "You can't kill him. No-one can."
"Only 'cause nobody's tried hard enough..."
"I'm serious, Nina; taking the fight to Heihachi is not what I want, and neither is it good strategy. All you can do is run."
"To where?" More cracks showing in the plan now. Even without the Tekken Force, Heihachi has the influence to reach every corner of civilisation and make his presence felt...
"To the ends of the earth and maybe beyond. And you can't stop until Heihachi is removed from power – which will happen in due time, I promise you."
I want to believe him, I really do. But he can't even bring himself to sound convincing; he knows he may as well have signed my death warrant personally. Well, at least he's telling me to my face – can't ask for much more of your executioner than honesty, can you? I turn away from him like I'm about to cry, just so he won't see me thinking...Jin'll be dead soon. He can't keep tabs on me from beyond the grave (I think), so he's never gonna know if I do what he's told me to or not. Why not just play along until the boy's been killed, then go to Heihachi and offer myself up? Could work. Old man Mishima only seems to hold grudges against family members, and it's not like he wouldn't need me...and where's the shame in betraying a client who's already dead? Yeah. That's what I'll do. Why not?
A hand – Jin's hand – suddenly tightens around my upper arm, and I remember that life has never made things so easy for me.
"I know you probably hate me for this, Nina, and I don't blame you. But I needed...I needed a guarantee, and you, above all else, are a survivor. Tough enough to see any battle through to the end, and smart enough to know when it's better to just call it quits. You were my only choice...my only hope."
There it is...that silvery tongue he inherited from his daddy, stroking my ego in just the right way to make me feel all smug and self-confident. He doesn't really need me – but he's so good at sounding pathetic, and I'm so good at accepting praise, that it all clicks together and before I can even form a real argument against it, I'm already blurting out, "I'll do it."
His arm falls away, and I hear him release a breath I expect he's been holding since he started looking at his own shoes. "Thankyou. I...really don't know what else I could have done. Hmm?"
I don't need to ask what the hmm is, in this case. Even without highfalutin' 'Devil Gene' stuff in my veins, I can feel the air change; like a sudden shift in condensation or pressure, the onset of a thunderstorm – not that you'd ever see one of those around here. My skin prickles with static electricity, and for just a moment, I can see my breath crystallise in front of me. Creepy.
His footsteps are already retreating when I turn around and blurt out his name.
"Jin!"
He stops immediately, wheeling around on one polished heel, a distracted and impatient look on his face...and I realise I have nothing to say. All this time, months of staying by his side, desperately fending off the threats of G-Corp, the Manjitou and the Korean's guerrila outfit, laughing so hard when we got to see another sunrise I felt like crying...how can I cover all of that with a few tiny words?
Truth told – I can't. So I just say, "Goodbye."
And with a nod, he turned and left. It would be the last time I'd ever see him.
***THE PRESENT
The computer's layout is simple enough. Can't tell if that's what it's supposed to be like or if Jin had someone install a more idiot-proof GUI before he left, knowing that I'd probably lose patience with anything more complicated. Whatever the case, the menus are all crisp and clear, and it takes a mere few minutes to figure out how to transfer tac-command protocols over to another leader...though it takes me another half-hour to actually type Lars' name and hit the 'enter' key. Dammit, Jin, if I knew it was gonna be this hard I would've kicked you in the crotch a few hundred times before letting you go...
Something clicks, and a section of keyboard folds away, like living plastic origami, and in its place rises a slot, almost like a letterbox, big enough for a hand to fit inside but little else. New words form on the screen:
AUTHORISATION CHECK: INSERT MATCHING LIVE DNA SAMPLE
"Genetic lock, right," I mutter to myself, and cautiously slip my hand inside the foreboding hole, mentally chiding myself for being so jittery; it's a computer, for christ's sake, it's not going to hurt you –
Something stabs my finger.
"Ah - !" I yank my hand free and look at the tip of my index finger, where a fat drop of blood now rests, leaking from a single, small, neat incision. Sticking the wounded digit in my mouth, I check the screen again – what's this shit now?
GENETIC PROFILE MATCH: williams, nina AUTHORISATION SUCCESSFUL!
"What kind of moronic designer made you, computer? I want to kill them now." Maybe that's an overreaction, but – well, screw you, you weren't the one getting needles shoved in their fingers!
Still...that's it done. This time tomorrow, the largest and most dangerous army in the world will belong to a soft-hearted idiot, and Heihachi Mishima will want my head on a silver platter. I should start running now, but then the scale of what I just did, it...I just changed the world. The whole world either saved or condemned by me tapping a few buttons on a computer. It's just so overwhelming, but not in an unwelcome sort of...something's printing. I didn't ask for anything to print, did I? Snatching the sheet out of the printer, I scan the first few lines – and immediately my heart starts pounding like tribal drums.
Nina,
Across the world right now, there are five computer 'nodes' that
make up the core MZ network. One of those nodes is the terminal
you see before you now. These five are the only machines capable
of changing Tekken Force deployment and other operations of simi
-lar importance. If they were destroyed, Heihachi would have no
reason to pursue you...
The locations of the remaining four can be found at the end of this
message. I did not tell you this in person because, frankly, I felt as
if I was already asking too much.
"You're not wrong there," I growl aloud before continuing to read.
You do not HAVE to do this, Nina, but in the long run, it may
help you find something like respite – an end to what will no
doubt become a prolonged and tiring chase. In case you do
accept this task, I took the precaution of rerouting several
arms shipments to the node locations, in case you find your
-self short on weapons. It is not much, but do keep in mind
that the nodes themselves will be largely unguarded once the
Tekken Force abandon their posts to join Lars. With a little
luck, this could be more simple than it appears.
As ever, I trust you to do the right thing.
Jin Kazama
(P.S. As a precaution, the terminal in front of you will self-
destruct ten minutes after this message is printed. You may
wish to move away before then.)
Couldn't you have written that at the start? Tearing off the bottom of the sheet – there's a string of numbers there, probably co-ordinates – I drop the rest on the floor, peel myself out of the chair and slip out of the computer's little chamber. The door swings shut behind me; by the time it's closed, I'm already back on the elevator and going down.
Five, ten, fifteen floors pass in mere moments, then I'm off, into another elevator, a normal one this time – c'mon, c'mon, five four three two one – lobby, the doors open and I'm trying not to look too hurried as I head for the front door and – oh great. Heihachi. Walking into the building. Man, it took him even less time than I'd thought to convince everyone he wasn't dead...
"Oh, Mr. Mishima, we've been so worried ever since your unfortunate disappearance..." Some slimy concierge scurries up to the old man – the way he's acting, I almost mistake him for Lee – bowing and kowtowing, eager to impress the returning management. Well done, that man, distracting Heihachi just enough for me to slip out of sight behind the receptionist's desk. Throwing a warning glance to the girl on duty, I wait and count the footsteps that approach – Heihachi's are easy to differentiate, since the old fool's wearing those sandals of his, the ones that look like they're made from cement blocks – and cross my fingers. Ten steps, twelve...sixteen, got to be nearly to the elevators now – wait...he's stopped. My breath catches in my throat, and I swear I can feel drops of ice-cold sweat prickling between my shoulder-blades, don't notice me, just keep going you bastard, nothing to see here...pleasepleaseplease...
...There; the footsteps continue, rising in pitch slightly as they ascend the steps leading up to the elevators. Still I wait, until I hear the steel doors closing before I breathe again, then vault over the desk and stride out the front doors without a backwards glance.
I make it about halfway across the plaza before the alarms start blaring. Then the ground begins to shake. Hidden machinery groans as four-foot-thick concrete slabs grind to the sides, revealing reinforced titanium doors that split apart in much the same way – and out of the underground hangar, scattering civillians in their wake, comes a convoy of APCs, their battleship grey armour gleaming in the midday sun, massive tyres cracking the pavement slabs underneath. Each one in turn unfolds enormous jet turbines, and I back off as quickly as I can before –
WHOOMPH!
Gah! Even from thirty feet away, the wash from the ignition makes my skin prickle and blister as I stumble blindly across the street, the engines picking up into a ear-bleeding whine as they strain to lift the vehicles up into the air – someone bumps into me, almost knocking me on my ass, but I manage to stay on my feet long enough to reach a side-alley, where I lean back against the wall and look up as the APCs swoop past overhead. Shouldn't take them too long to find Lars' gang, assuming they transmit friendly hails over the radio.
Me, on the other hand...well. Heihachi's probably noticed the commotion, and it'll take him a few hours at most to figure out it's all my fault. He'll come after me, and when word of that spreads amongst the underworld, I'm sure Kazuya will get involved, as eager to deprive daddy of a win as he'll be to find out exactly what I've got, if not more so. Plus there's the inevitable bus-load of idiots with axes to grind against Jin, who'll probably see me as a good scapegoat now he's gone. So, what can I do?
...exactly what my orders specified. I turn my back on the Zaibatsu and I start running.
Author's Notes:
Right, so this is the first fanfic I've put up anywhere in a long, long time. For some reason, every one I write winds up being about Tekken, not sure why...anyway, I got this idea after playing through T6's Scenario Campaign, and idly wondering what might happen to my favourite game-girl afterwards. Some other bits of the plot are 'inspired' (read: a bit ripped-off) by the 'World's Most Wanted' arc of Matt Fraction's Invincible Iron Man comics.
Good news is: I've got a full working plan for how the story will go, so I know what I have to write next and won't get stuck for ideas.
Bad news is: I'm only 3 chapters in out of a planned 15, and since I'm fairly active in efedding (don't ask), my writing time tends to get spent elsewhere. So updates may be few and far between...but I really, really don't want to quit this before it's done.
That's basically all I've got to say, except thanks for reading this far, and I promise that almost all the other chapters will have more action in them.
Next Time: Nina's got to get out of Tokyo, but that's easier said than done in a city right at the center of the MZ/G-Corp war. Guest-starring Hwoarang, Baek and Miguel!