The landscape seemed like death itself. The scarred ground, tinted purple with the flaming red sky, fed by the heat of seemingly countless eruptions in the distance, vibrated and cracked as the battle for the fate of the Corporation raged. Whiffs and thuds sounded as sweat and hair fell from the fighters' bodies, out of exertion and aging alike.
Steve Fox lived a hard life. Whisked from a calm demonic cathedral straight into what resembled hell on Earth, right into the hardest battle of his life, he deserved all of our pities. "One, two, one, two!" he cried, his fists encased in red leather moving as if propelled by his voice, the red leather in turn embedding into the tanned, aging flesh of one Jinpachi. Hurt, Jinpachi did what nobody would expect: He laughed. As Steve's nerfed string didn't stun him, he laughed. Teleporting backward, Steve knew what was coming. "F--" He didn't get to finish his expletive, his consciousness fading instantly as the raging flames of Jinpachi's super cheap stomach laser attack struck him dead in the face.
Unfortunately for Steve, fate didn't seem to like him very much, as he shortly found himself awake and standing again, hatred burning in his eyes as he stared down his opponent as Round 2 began. "Three…" he whispered, weaving to the left as Jinpachi's left foot whiffed by his head. "One, one!" he yelled, left glove drilling into Jinpachi's gut twice. Whether he was caught off guard by the wording, or whether Steve delivered a mean left uppercut, Jinpachi found himself falling back onto the hard rock. But Steve wasn't done yet, oh no he wasn't. "UF, three!" he cried, leaping into the air and coming down hard on Jinpachi's shin with his left foot. Whichever physics were in play didn't seem to like Jinpachi being up much, as he skidded a few feet along the rock before Steve came at him again with his vicious foot stomp. And again. And again. And again.
However, physics can only hold back resurrected darkness for so long, and Steve's foot stomp whiffed on its sixth repetition, earning a curse from the blond boxer as Jinpachi arose, taking advantage of Steve's recovery frames. Narrowing his eyes, Steve growled. "F, three…" It came out menacingly, unpleasant especially to Jinpachi's ears, as the elderly fighter's slow attempt at a grab whiffed right over Steve's head. "One!" he cried out in unison with his fist, said limb extension's glove catching Jinpachi's chin and sending him soaring into the air along with Steve's spirits. The match was his. "One, two, one two!" Steve cried again, unleashing his nerfed string, this time without fear of retaliation. His back colliding with an invisible wall, Jinpachi bounced into the air once again, eyes widening as he realized his impending doom. "One, two, one, two!" came yet another cry from Steve, this time with a victorious, if not vindictive, edge. His gloves struck home the last four times, and Jinpachi saw black.
His opponent collapsing, Steve grinned. He boxed with the shadows for a moment, displaying his speed and strength to an imaginary audience, as he spoke. "Hey you, you wanna try me gu--" Once again, he was cut short. This time, by Jinpachi suddenly exploding. In such a close proximity, Steve found himself caught in the raging inferno, but something was different. Something that made his life flash before his eyes. The seizure-inducing flashing began to slow, and Steve recognized this new scene. The day he found himself drawn into this whole mess.
It was a normal Friday night; Steve was relaxing in Hong Kong with his best friend Lei Wulong, sharing a round of beers. However, the two were drawing weird stares from the bar's other patrons. Not because
of Steve's donning of boxing gloves and not much else (It's summer, it's not unusual to just wear shorts around, right?), or even of Lei's cowboy outfit (Given the lack of wardrobe variety of the King of Iron Fist Tournament's participants, surely the patrons of Lei's local bar were used to it). No, they were drawing weird stares because Lei was feeding Steve his beer. You see, it's hard to hold a beer with a boxing glove. But Lei, being the wonderful friend he is, helped Steve remedy his problem. So they were both having fun, the whole bar was having fun, the whole street was alive and kicking with the downtown Hong Kong groove. Until there was an explosion. Then another. And another. And another.
Then suddenly the wall of the bar burst open, into a shower of debris and drywall particles. When the smoke cleared, the first syllable uttered besides a scream was naught but a "Hi, Mum!" This came from Steve, along with a complimentary wave of his glove. You see, that which remained from the rubble was the form of none other than Nina Williams. Unfortunately, she appeared to be suffering from a severe bout of memory loss, as she immediately turned on her blonde son with a gun in hand. "Who are you?! Who sent you?! Talk, now!" Steve, apparently used to this treatment by his maternal unit, stood. "Mum, it's me, Steve! Your son, remember?" The bar was silent for a moment, mostly due to wonderment at the possible age difference between Steve and his apparent mother. Lei put his forehead in his hand.
"Ohh! Right! How are you my darling boy?!" Nina squealed, gun suddenly away in a crevice nobody could see, nor attempt to without fearing for their life. Not a moment later and she was gripping Steve in a killer bear hug, a blissful expression on her face apparently not noting the pained expression on her son's. "Um… Mum… Can't breathe…" As fast as she latched on to her son, Nina immediately let go. "Oh, sorry son, it's just I haven't seen you in, what, two months?" From the floor, Steve's complexion gradually returned to its usual palor from its unhealthy blue tinge. "Two weeks actually, Mum," he wheezed out, suddenly feeling nauseous. "Oh…" Nina scratched her head.
That pause was all she needed. Her black-clad fingers snapped at the trigger, and milliseconds later the blonde head in her crosshairs exploded in a shower of gore. Anna Williams smirked. She had finally killed her sister with firearms instead of hand-to-hand combat. Too bad she'd respawn somehow. Oh well, if Nina truly died, Anna would have a higher chance of landing an imbalanced opponent in the next King of Iron Fist Tournament, someone like that hunk Jin Kazama… or his fangirl, that Ling character. What was her family name…? Xiatian…? Xepher…? Xel'naga…?
Amidst her ponderment, Steve had time to grieve. That is, yell an anguished, Cockney-accented cry of "Mum! No!", followed immediately by "F! F!!" However, Anna was too deep in thought to hear the rushing footsteps that increased in volume every second. Same goes for the sudden cry of "Three plus four!" But she was literally snapped out of it with the following cry of "Two!", as Steve landed his super cheap spinny attack. Round 1 was on, like Donkey Kong.