Disclaimer: Tekken and Tekken characters are the property of Namco Limited. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

Breaking the Cycle

by Salysha

The Bahamas was paradise on Earth. Lars Alexandersson wasn't there for the semitropical archipelago or cays surrounded by coral blue, but it would've been discourteous to neglect acknowledging as much. He was suddenly glad he had accepted Lee Chaolan's unexpected invitation. It was a change from the bland every day, and the change of perspective would do him good. Staggering humidity hit him as he descended from the plane.

A car met him upon landing and took him to the landing pad, where the journey continued in a helicopter to Lee Chaolan's private residence. As soon as Lars mapped out their destination and took a good look at the place, his eyes propped out. He had known to prepare for comfortable living, perhaps a dash of luxury, because Lee had implied he was well off; he hadn't expected a veritable palace.

Lee Chaolan came striding down a handsome flight of stairs as the helicopter landed. He had undertaken strictly less formal wear than before: the suit had been replaced by colorful Hawaiian shirt, white shorts and sandals, and of course fashionable sunglasses.

"Lars! I am glad you accepted the invitation," Lee said suavely and shook hands. He wasn't a bone-crusher; his handshake was a little too lax and fleeting. "Make yourself at home. Enjoy the facilities. I take it after the latest . . . ordeals, even the great rebel leader could use a vacation." He measured Lars' countenance probingly.

Lars laughed mirthlessly and inclined his head.

"Thanks for the invite . . . Chaolan?"

Lee laughed a little. "Lee. No one's ever called me anything else, not even my supposed 'family.'"

"Lee it is."

"Excellent," Lee said with satisfaction. "Come. Let someone take care of those while I show you around."

Lars was led up the staircase Lee had descended. Past the stairs, he saw mansion walls reaching up to the heights. Behind him, the sea rippled gentle encouragement. He eyed the staircase curiously; slabs of precious white marble made the stairs shimmering elegance and wealth, much like the mansion he had glimpsed airborne. Lee noticed him looking. "Carrara marble," Lee clarified, adding with a shrug, "It's not forever, but nothing is."

"This place is amazing," Lars said in appreciation. "Is this where you stay permanently?"

Lee looked pleased. "Live. Conduct business when possible. Socialize, on occasion. I hardly leave here unless business calls me away."

"I don't think I can blame you."

The mansion grew in their eyes. The transportation platform and the ocean view dwindled to static hum as they came closer to the residence that dominated the slopes along the ocean front. The yard area hosted neatly-kept planting and alabaster walkways lined with cobblestone. The plants formed a beautiful radial design made with palm trees. Obviously pleased at his wordless appreciation, Lee showed him to the house, past the spacious foyer with spiraling staircases that led to the second story.

"Take a moment to freshen up. Come join me outside when you're done." Lee signaled his staff. "See that Mr. Alexandersson has everything he needs."

Lars was led to the second floor, to a suite that was just as lavish at the rest of the house. He had trouble convincing his escort that he would be fine on his own, but once he did, he was free to reel from the first impression. Lars left his bags unattended and went to the balcony. The outside humidity hit back at him as soon as he did, and he quickly shut the doors. Lars took in the room, wondering to himself what he had gotten himself into.

Lars didn't go to the poolside right away. He took a stroll in the gardens, where several staff members were trimming the hedges and maintaining the walkways. He tried to make himself inconspicuous and move along, making as little trouble as possible.

The house wasn't just for pleasure; he noted a study behind the French windows that spanned an entire wall as he passed. He had also noticed the inconspicuous access control and rightly identified the glass doors as some kind of polymer composite that could resist small-caliber firepower.

Lee was lounging in a pool chair, under the shade of a beach parasol, as Lars joined him. They weren't the only ones around; an ensemble of attractive people, young women and men, were frolicking around the pool. As Lars approached, Lee gestured to the empty seat by his side and cued his barista. A striking young man came to hand him a cocktail and a glass of ice water. Lars fixed eyes on him briefly: almost unnaturally beautiful, symmetric features.

"Come, relax. Have a drink," Lee cut in from the side, and Lars accepted the offering with thanks. He didn't drink, usually, but he supposed he might indulge this once rather than risk being ungracious. Lee continued, "Keep yourself watered. The climate can be cruel to the unaccustomed. Also, you must excuse the crowd. Unexpected visitors do come by on occasion. Pay no heed to them. They'll be gone before the evening."

"You have a beautiful home," Lars said.

"I appreciate beauty in all its forms," Lee said. His eyes lingered across the pool. A young woman had submerged into the pool mere moments ago. Her young man lingered on the land, flexing, stretching to the sun.

The moment broke off. Lee turned to Lars.

"Have you figured which ones are human yet?"

"What?"

Lee laughed. "I have staff, but most chores are undertaken by bots. I do have a few experimental models that haven't quite been taken to production yet. What better way to test them?"

Lee directed his attention to the far corner of the lawn, and at that moment, Lars realized none of the gardeners were human. It explained the ethereal qualities of the barista, too.

"This is impressive," he said reluctantly.

"When creating humanoids, the trickiest part is mimicking human movements. Even the best models have certain rigidity in their movements; they lack fluidity and natural grace. If you settled to robots on wheels, you could build an army already to whatever purpose you want served. And deployment of cognitive skills is an altogether different matter, as you know. We still haven't developed the perfect formula."

"Some say it cannot be done," Lars challenged.

"They also said a man couldn't fly," Lee countered in good humor and relaxed into his seat. "But why not? The applications are endless, the most common being, I suppose, humanitarian use and military use."

"Which camp are you taking, Lee?" Lars asked.

Lee quirked his lips at that, inclined his head. "It doesn't hurt to play both sides," he said in a deep voice and laughed a silvery laugh.

Lars felt he was being played. Tested, in a way. He withheld Lee's gaze.

Slowly, Lee's lips crept up. He leaned back in his chair with a sultry laugh, amused at himself. "Truthfully? I have little interest in warmongery. Beside basic security, I believe in live and leave it alone."

The grounds cleared by nightfall. Lars had taken a break from the high humidity and retreated to bed for steady air conditioning and rest from jetlag. By the time he was up again, the outside air had cooled to more bearable levels.

The dining room was just as grandiose as the rest of the house. This time, it was just the two of them, and Lars was treated to a lavish dinner that consisted of skillfully cooked dishes in a beautiful décor while Lee talked to him like an old friend. Everyone around was nothing but courteous and attentive, and it was confusing Lars. He had come to expect ulterior motives from all his dealings, and he didn't have a suspicion of one yet. There was no sense of danger, no foreboding that usually bore with him and warned him off.

"Lee, don't think I didn't appreciate this." Lars spread his hands and gestured all around. "But I still don't know why you invited me."

Lee's disposition was suddenly much more serious. The nancying was gone, all the little things Lee did slipped away from him. He set his flatware down and pushed the plate away.

"You are who I think you are?"

Lars suddenly became interested in a fixed spot on the wall.

It was Lee who broke the silence that he had brought forth himself. "I bet Kazuya was thrilled," he said quietly.

That earned an "umph" from Lars, with a rueful smile.

"And the old man?"

Lars shrugged. His gaze slowly trailed down from the wall, and he stared at the table fixedly. The wood grain had never been so fascinating.

"It is not my intention to pry," Lee said, well aware how that was all he was doing, but determined to make the point, nonetheless. "But I had to make sure."

Lars fought all instinct to flee and kept himself rooted to the spot, with Lee safely in the corner of his eye and nowhere closer.

In the corner of his eye, Lee filled a glass for himself and played with it. "I get that you grew up elsewhere?"

"Yeah."

"You have a good mother?"

Lars smiled a little, despite himself. "Yes."

Lee looked into his glass; for once, he looked genuinely sad, void of that exterior he had built over the years. Lars' intended avoidance broke when he heard Lee gulp. He ventured a quick look, and the defensive annoyance he had felt for being brought into questioning about his heritage left. Lee appeared collected, but Lars had not missed the misty-eyed confusion.

"There is a reason I invited you over, Lars," Lee said. The charade was wearing off word by word. He mumbled something and sampled his wine, but the Silver-Haired Devil was not drunk, and he was smart enough to know Lars didn't think he was.

"It's been a Mishima tradition to hold hatred for anyone in your family. Heihachi started it, and it spread like poison, across generations. It corrupts your mind and never lets you in peace. I'd like to break that tradition. I know you turned down our alliance, and I can live with that. I'd like us to be friends. If that's not possible, at least stay neutral acquaintances. Anything that isn't carrying on this insane feud."

Lee's hand shook ever so slightly before he managed to place the canter on the table. The wine moved tranquilly like blood in the glass. "I know you don't feel it, but you had it best. You didn't have to grow up there. You didn't have to be around him. I managed, but look at Kazuya. Look at Jin. God, I really thought he had a chance..." Lee's voice was thick. Lars' heart pounded in his chest. "What I'm trying to say: don't give into hate. Don't become them. Make your own way. From what I gather, you've already done so. Don't take the path the rest of us did when you still have a chance to back out."

They broke off heavily that night, at the lack of anything more to say. Lars stayed awake long that night, unaware that elsewhere, Lee Chaolan paced long circles before finally settling down.

Lars was strolling around early that morning. He felt more desensitized to the surroundings now; the white marble bowed down to the sun and shone back with toned brilliance.

He looked at the turquoise sea and wondered if it was turquoise enough to absorb his sorrows. He looked around him, at all the beauty and the lavish exterior of the house, and he came to realize it was a castle and a defense against the night.

"Morning," came from his side, and a drink was pushed his way. "It's not alcoholic."

Lars accepted the colorful drink, complete with an umbrella and a fancy ensemble of other little extras. With a quick sniff, he confirmed it as some kind of a fruity juice with a touch of... cranberry? Lee had a glass in hand, too; pure cranberry, it seemed, though Lars tried to dismiss that Campari would have borne the same characteristics.

He hadn't figured Lee for an early riser like this.

"How are you, Lee?" he asked quietly. It might have been a figment of his imagination, but he thought he saw a slight slouch to Lee's posture: tiredness that hadn't been there before.

"Nothing touches me," Lee said casually and shot a grin back. Lars wished he could have seen behind the sunglasses, but on further thought, he gladly allowed Lee his cover.

Glass in hand, he followed Lee to a lookout that had a grand view over the waterfront. He felt almost humbled before the sublime scene, especially since he wasn't sure where he stood with his host. "Everything good?"

Lee waved his concerns off immediately.

"Of course, of course. It's bad business to make enemies," Lee said casually, but Lars got the impression it was a feeble excuse. Lee had reached out to him from the beginning. He thought he recognized the offer for friendship for what it was, and acquiesced to it gladly. Lee interrupted his thoughts. "What shall we toast to, Lars? New beginnings?"

Lars swung the drink, seemingly riveted by its viscosity. "I'd like to make a different toast." He felt the silence before continuing, but he needed the time to formulate the thought. "To breaking the cycle."

Lee looked very serious for a moment, before the perfect calm mask landed on his face and the courtly manner settled back as though it had never left. "I'll drink to that, Lars."

THE END

Published August 17, 2013.

Shining thanks to Gypsie (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!