Stressed Hologram
A one-shot, possibly a lead-in to a separate story altogether
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OCs
I look down at my hand... or what appears to be my hand - physical and yet at the same time not real. Letting out a hollow laugh, I pick up my smartphone, thanks to my hard-light drive... and I manipulate it, trying to recall its functions. After a bit of tinkering, I come across a huge Wave file, at least 10 MB in size - an audio recording of my ill-fated rescue attempt... dated more than 20 years ago.
What the hell happened? I have to find out for myself.
Without another word, I open and play the recording, eager to discover my past, and to unearth the cause of my unprecedented and premature death.
"OK, Yakov... I'm in the Mishima Zaibatsu HQ. I'll get back to you ASAP."
My voice still has the same ambiguity - simultaneously gentle and authoritative - as when I was alive. My friend, Yakov, on the other hand, is a different kind of ambiguous... I never could tell if he was being serious or just joking.
"Good luck, Sandro. Yakov out."
Taking my sweet time as per usual, I listen to the digitised sound chronicling my final moments alive. I can hear my past self grunt and breathe heavily, as if he... or I... was struggling to be clear and professional.
Clear? Professional? That's not really in your vocabulary, Sandro.
Suddenly, I hear a voice that is neither mine nor that of my close friend. A more feminine voice, tinged with acid-like venom. I bathe in its flesh-stripping agony.
"Anna... dear sister."
"Nina - hello."
I can hear the sound of a gun being cocked and primed, although it is most likely coming from my past self rather than the two aforementioned females.
"I've been looking forward to this for a long time. Shame it ends here and now - I was beginning to enjoy this Tournament."
"To get Kazuya, you'll have to get through me, sister."
The sounds of fighting and Martial Arts noises goes on for a full minute, until there is a faint hissing noise... and the tone of the atmosphere changes from combat to betrayal.
"Cyanose... sleeping gas!"
"What!?"
"Somebody's filling the... the room with a Chloroform compound!"
"He... he can't be! He said he... LOVED... me...!"
"He obviously LIED, you imbecile!"
"Hey... at least... I have a heart... Bride of Mr Freeze...!"
There are two thuds, followed by a deep, abiding silence. I can hear my past self cursing almost inaudibly as the reality of the situation gets to him. The silence is broken by a deep, commanding voice.
"Take them to the cryo-lab - strip them down and freeze them. The Boss will be proud."
Noticing the increasing tension, I can hear my past self retract and call up his - my - friend.
"Yakov, it's Sandro. We may have to abort the mission. I've just heard the Williams Sisters are being sent to the freezer."
"Sandro, if we abort now, then the Mishima bloodline may risk continuing."
"I don't care, Yakov - I'm going to try to save my own neck if I can... actually, no, scrap that. I'm going to try to get those girls out of there."
There is a LONG pause.
"Sandro... did I just hear you right?"
"Yes, Yakov - I'm going to try to rescue the Williams Sisters."
"Sandro, it's suicide! You heard what happened to them! They're gone."
Click, dial tone. I laugh at the bravado and overconfidence of my past self - typical macho-man action-hero bullshit.
"OK, Sandro... change of plan - save the girls. They're going to thank you, give you a kiss, and you'll probably get laid tonight - you and your buddy Yakov."
Cocking what sounds like an assault rifle, the footsteps from my past self change from silent to steady, accompanied by a variation in the atmosphere. He reads out what appears to be the sign of a restricted area.
"Restricted Area - Cryogenics Lab: Authorised Personnel Only. Authorise THIS."
My past self fires a burst of rounds, opening the door... but also activating the alarm. For the next minute, all I can hear is gunfire followed by cries of agony as my living counterpart kills dozens of Mishima Zaibatsu PMC Troops. Eventually, a clicking sound is heard, followed by my historical form cursing.
"Come on... come on! COME THE FUCK ON!"
BANG! A gunshot is heard.
"Shit!" My past self tries to retreat, as he is shot - and a scream of pain is heard.
"Fuck!" Heavy breathing follows, accompanied by another cry of agony... and a series of taunts by my past self.
"Come on! Come on, you fuck! You drone fucks!"
BANG! Another gunshot, followed by the me of the past yelling and screaming as a dull clunk is heard, indicating his assault rifle has been dropped. A door opens and closes... and the sound of a pistol cocking is heard.
"Come on!" I can hear him... I can hear ME - taunting them again.
"Come o-o-o-o-on! Come o-o-o-o-on! Come on, you macho fucks!"
The Squad Leader reports to his Boss via his radio.
"Sir, we have the intruder cornered. What shall we do?" A pause.
"Bring him to me."
Two gunshots are heard, followed by bodies falling. Realising the futility of the situation, my past self comes to a decision: Suicide.
BANG! A third and final gunshot punctuates the lethal bullet that ultimately took my life, just as the troops burst in.
"We're late. He's dead... he just killed himself."
"No matter... bring me his body."
The recording ends... and it all comes back to me now. Looking in the mirror, I see a two-inch-high, metallic-looking gold-coloured letter 'H' on my forehead... and that's when it hits home. I feel a sense of anger and pain, but at the same time sadness and regret.
So I'm dead... and those bastards resurrected me as a hard-light hologram... an electronic ghost with a physical presence confined to a virtual afterlife.
Looking at an envelope addressed to me posthumously, I pick it up and open it, revealing a plane ticket and an invitation to the latest King of Iron Fist Tournament.
Maybe... MAYBE... I can get closure from this Tournament - and I might just run into those girls again.
