DISCLAIMER: The characters, story, universe, etc. of Tekken belongs to Namco. They're not mine, and I make no claim to them.

Ballroom Brawl by YF-21

"" denotes speech.

denotes emphasis.

The storm roared like a lion. A bolt of lightning fell across the skies.

Jin Kazama placed a hand on the large window at the back of his office. The office was gloomy and cold, just like the young man himself. Though the day was dark and foul, no interior lights were on. There was no sound but the ticking of a longcase clock and the rattling of the drops against the window. It was september and heavy rain poured outside. The wet season would keep on raining until the first weeks of october, and then it would be cold after that.

Even with the downpour, the view was fantastic. The Mishima tower comically dwarfed any other building in Tokyo. At the height Jin's office was, he could manage to see the entirety of the majestic Roppongi hills on the horizon and the wandering curves of the Arakawa river spilling into the bay itself. His office wasn't even at the tallest floor of the building. Back in the eighties, when Jin's grandfather Heihachi received word that his tower might not be the biggest in town in the near future, he undertook a massive engineering project that added forty floors to the already imposing building. It had taken seven years - and astronomical costs - but he made sure his Mishima tower remained the tallest not just in the city, but in all of Japan. From this office, at the very heart of the mighty Mishima Zaibatsu, the entire city of Tokyo lied at his feet, like a sea of light surrounded by tobacco darkness. He found the thought almost amusing. The young man knew better than that.

There was no heart to this beast.

Jin was a tall, handsome man with black hair and quick, intelligent eyes. He wore a well-tailored black dress shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, along with matching shoes. He was only twenty two years old, but he was the CEO of the largest, most influential multinational in history. From mass consumer goods and entertainment to state of the art military hardware, the Mishima Zaibatsu had a stranglehold of a fair share of the global market. Governments of lesser countries toppled at the mere suggestion of business withdrawal from the company. Such was the extent of the influence that it exerted that if Jin could take all the exclaves and exclusive administration areas granted to the Zaibatsu from all over the world and put them together, it would form a small country. Small, but a country still. A country of Mishima.

Though one could say that the tower represented the symbolic heart of the company, Jin knew it surely wasn't the brain of it. The Zaibatsu was a multinational in its truest sense, in that there was no central chain of command to follow nor main office to attack. Like the many heads of the mythical Hydra, each branch of the company worked as their own autonomous, independent entity. Each ran their own projects, with their own staff and management. Should something befall the Mishima tower or the japanese branch, the others would carry on as everyday.

Jin also commanded a private army - though he would never call it that - that could easily rival any of the world's superpowers. Composed entirely by mercenaries and soldiers of fortune, the Tekken Force protected the interests and operations of the company against external agency. It was self-interest what motivated this army, and not flimsy things like lofty ideals or noble causes. Mishima paid the best, so they expected the best in return.

A shiver ran down Jin's spine. He could feel his grandfather's stern glare on his back.

There was a big picture of the company's previous head in the office. He didn't have it removed when he took over the company, nor touched any of the many, many institutions under his name. That was fine. They were all good reminders of the crazy old man. Besides, he couldn't just take them off like that. People were used to him. For many decades, Heihachi had been the visible face - and something of the mascot - of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Not anymore, he told himself. It was his now. By right and by force.

When his mother passed away, it had been Heihachi to take Jin under his wing. He had been groomed to take over the company since then. Make yourself useful, boy, His grandfather had said to him on occasion, and one day this will be all yours. Of course, he had never meant any of that. There was no chance in hell Heihachi would ever let go of the company. Jin had been groomed all that time, yes, but for something else entirely.

Something that already dealt with, and best left forgotten.

If one could ask him, Jin would say he had no father. He had no grandfather. Most of his relatives were dead to him. For there was one thing that bind all Mishimas together, and it was hate. Jin himself had learned quite a bit about hate in the last few years. Hate was pure. There was purity, honesty in hate. True hate was sincere and genuine. He could only expect the worst from his immediate family and they could only expect the worst from him. Most importantly, Jin had learned that hate was just too stubborn to die. His risen great grandfather, sent back to the grave by him. His grandfather, surviving impossible odds time and time again. His very father, brought back to life by twisted science. Both were still out there, plotting his demise and each others in turn.

Jin, too, was a being of hate. When he came to hate enough - enough to lose, to immerse himself in it -, his hate manifested upon him. He turned into winged, horned hate. To indulge is such things meant the bane of sanity, the erosion of the soul. Either he learned to master the devil within, or he would turn into a hollow mockery of a person like that man.

The sound of movement interrupted his ruminations. The doors of his office creaked open, followed by stillness in the air. The muscles on his back tensed by reflex. It was an assassin. An assassin had come for him.

Jin didn't even bother turning around.

An assassin on a contract, or one looking to make a name for itself, cunning and skilled enough to circumvent the numerous deathtraps of the tower, to stealth through the seasoned veterans of the Tekken Force on guard and to track Jin down to his lair - his real office, not the one everyone expects him to be. It wouldn't be the first time.

Or maybe it wasn't an assassin after all. Maybe someone who had their life ruined by the Zaibatsu. Maybe a person who had a dear friend, or a cherished family member lost or hurt to the company's dirty, dirty dealings, now out for blood and revenge. Someone foolhardy and determined enough to power their way through the security detail, to evade the myriad defenses and try and exact vengeance from him. That wasn't exactly unheard of, either.

Jin understood he would have to meet justice one day. He was no stranger to the notion, and was fully aware his deeds wouldn't go unpunished forever. When justice catched up with him - when Jin was ready to face justice -, he wouldn't run nor hide, but only once he decided it was over. Only once he knew he was done.

"You have a congress to attend in Switzerland."

"I don't recall appointing you as my secretary," he commented.

"I'm not," the voice behind him replied nonchalantly. "I don't think you could afford me."

It was only then that Jin turned around. It was an assassin alright. His.

"I didn't know you cared, Nina. Thanks."

Tall and athletically slender, Nina Williams was clad in a purplish bodyglove that left nothing to the imagination except the risks involved. Her considerable beauty was plain to see. Full lips, fierce blue eyes and long blonde hair neatly tied into a ponytail. Nina was an assassin by trade, and one of the best in the business. Jin had met her awhile back, when she was hired by his father to kill him. A three day long battle ensued, including car chases, gunfights, several explosions and hand-to-hand fighting before Jin was able to convince her to work for him. Now she served as his personal bodyguard.

"It's not like you pay me that much either," Nina said humorlessly. She quietly produced a tablet and handed it over to him.

"What is this about?"

"There will be a major defense contractor meeting in two weeks. The idea is to discuss deployment of experimental weaponry in Africa," she explained. It was no surprise for him that Nina kept current of most of the endless coming and goings of the Zaibatsu's everyday operations. He was the one who asked her to keep him appraised of the more relevant matters. And double-check them himself later, just in case.

Jin took a look at the list in the tablet. It was full of companies and big names. Most were familiar, others not so much. Subach was a renowned small arms manufacturer. Besimmer-Kohn supplied NATO forces with armor and fighting vehicles. Triton Dynamics developed next-gen fighter and bomber craft for the Chinese government. RNI Systems dealt in military satellites and advanced surveillance equipment. Mekhu Enterprises-

He had seen enough.

Jin returned the tablet to Nina. "This congress is a sham and I have no interest in it," he announced. "We will proceed with business in Africa as usual."

"What do you mean?"

"These old fools are too fretful to compete," Jin replied as he sat on the chair by his desk. "So they are looking for ways to delay Nancy from entering the market."

The NANCY-MI847J heavy assault engine was the newest brainchild of the Zaibatsu's weapons R&D department. ´Inspired´ by the venerable JACK series automated infantry, the MI847J took mechanized warfare to the next level. The hulking machine could perform a variety of roles on the battlefield, from bombing runs to escort duty and of course, heavy assault. Nancy boasted an impressive array of weapons, from machine guns to guided bombs and racks of interceptor missiles. Advanced ECM blankets kept hostile targeting systems from acquiring a lock and depleted uranium armor plating made it nigh impervious to small arms fire. Joke also had it that it was named after the head designer's ex-wife.

The Zaibatsu had chosen Africa as a test field for the MI847J's capabilities. Dictators, weak governments and rebel forces from all over the war-torn continent receive the leased war machines at ridiculous prices with open arms.

In Uganda, a spearhead of Nancys end the fourteen month siege of Masindi by leveling a good third of the city. A few days later the surrender negotiations take a turn for the worst when the delegation representing warlord Samid Haddad are summarily executed after finding the terms offered by the perpetually transitional government unacceptable. Fortunately, the next delegation are more willing to negotiate an end to the conflict.

The Zaibatsu supplies both sides of the Sudanese civil war. The Soul Hunter successfully engages and destroys the Spirit of Adwa twenty six kilometers off Umm Ruwaba, marking the first Nancy on Nancy kill on records. When news reach the town, the militia garrison flee in mass, granting the freedom fighters of ´Blood General´ Ntendde control of the Rochefort oil fields in the area, which switch hands for the third time in the last four years.

The fifth son of Somalian murder baron Adebba takes his father's MI847J for a spin, unfortunately losing control of the machine as it ploughs against the modest number of european tankers held for ransom that the baron had been ´acquiring´ from the gulf of Aden in previous months. The ensuing gigantic explosion sinks or heavily damages every ship in port and can be seen from a hundred and fifty kilometers away. Some of the fires still rage in Mogadishu to this day.

Jin couldn't complain. Results so far - like sales projections - seemed rather promising.

"If so, then it's a more of a reason to attend," Nina's tone was disarmingly soft, yet commanding at the same time. "You don't want to look unreasonable in front of the world."

The young man took a deep breath. "I see."

"The congress will be held forty km off Lucerne city," the assassin continued. "In the local Rochefort's lakeside palace."

Jin didn't need any introduction for them. An old Monegasque merchant dynasty down in their luck, the Rocheforts could, according to them, be easily traced back to the more enlightened days of the european renaissance. While they mostly dealt with wine and vinegar shipments in the mediterranean, early twentieth century British rulership in Africa had suspiciously granted the family exploitation rights for the newly discovered oil fields in what would later become modern Nigeria and Sudan. Loads of money rolling in, they came to be known as the ´Oil kings of Monaco´ overnight and overseas. Nowadays they were mostly known for the lavish palaces and resorts they kept around the globe. Mr. Rochefort, the current head of the family, was an elderly widower in his late seventies and bad word had it that his sole underage heiress was a bit of an eccentric. Lately, with developments in the Sudanese civil war dwindling their stock value over and over, an eventual takeover by the Zaibatsu seemed inevitable.

"This is going to be important, Jin," Nina insisted. "Don't skip this."

Their eyes met. They were not friends, nor lovers, nor colleagues, but employer and employee. There was nothing that bind them other than their working relationship. There might be one thing, though. Nina, like Jin himself, knew what was to have a family feud. It was there, but she never spoke of it. He never asked either. They were rather private people at heart.

An impressive resume preceded Nina, her notorious career starting long before he was born. The thought made Jin smirk slightly. Nina didn't look like it, but she was easily more than twice his age. It was time spent sleeping, however. He was polite enough not to bring her real age up, nor the circumstances regarding her deep sleep.

Jin didn't really pay her to think either, but appreciated her input nonetheless. Unlike the toadies and lackies he has to deal with regularly, the young man found her straightforwardness and diligence refreshing. Still, a mercenary was a mercenary, so he made sure she got paid handsomely for her trouble. Jin respected Nina, but he was fully aware that paid loyalty could only go so far. He suspected she knew he keep her under surveillance, and definitely something he expected her to bring up eventually. If the assassin knew, which she probably did, she didn't say. Even then, he knew he was being unfair to her. Nina had been nothing but professional so far. It was just that he couldn´t bring himself to trust anyone anymore.

Nina knew Jin could turn into a literal monster at a moment's notice. She had seen the creature before, in another life, and fully aware of what it was capable of. She knew that he struggled to control it, to give it direction. The assassin understood he kept her around not just to keep her name off a laundry list of people who wanted him dead, but ultimately as a failsafe. If he lost himself and strayed too far, then it would be up to her to put him out of his misery.

There was an understanding between them. Her time was his, but should worst come to worst, his life - and the problem - would be entirely hers. Of course, she was not only failsafe he keeps around. Jin was too smart for that. He was not interested in dying at her hands, or at all. That's where the girl from Osaka came into play.

Asuka Kazama didn't like Jin much, but she begrudgingly took his money and mostly did as she was told.

It was through rather awkward circumstances that he discovered her touch has the power to keep the devil in him at bay. Unlike the biochemical concoctions his father consumed, there were no secondary effects to his cousin´s touch. No sequels. No side effects. There was a secret buried in her genes that turned her a valuable asset to him.

Jin visited his uncle's house in Osaka. He hadn't seen them since his mother's funeral, years ago. Mr. Kazama owned a dojo in the city, where he taught Kazama-ryu style to the local youth. Mrs. Kazama was more of a traditional wife, and helps around with the house. Asuka was outraged.

Her parents, on the other hand, were delighted with his offer.

Jin´s timing couldn´t have been better. The last street fight Asuka broke up got a little out of hand. Gang members ended up in the hospital, storefronts lied in ruins. The police poked around, asking questions. The authorities' patience - just like her parents' - was wearing thin. They all agree it would be good for her to keep a low profile for awhile. Asuka protested every step of the way. Her parents should be ashamed of themselves, she said. She couldn't believe that they were actually considering taking Jin's blood money, that they were considering sending her away to Tokyo with him.

Jin was, in his cousin´s loving words, a ´total bastard´, an ´asshole´, and a ´shithead´. He couldn´t agree more. He knew he was, in fact, all those things.

And if what he had in store came to fruition, he would be even more.

"Inform Miss Kazama she will be joining us."

"Understood."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: God, I haven´t written in ages. I hope you can wade through the. sentence. fragments. that litter my writing. Yup, I´m making lots of stuff up in this, I know. I promise the fic is not going to be super serious either.

Lili´s turn is next.

See you around!