Treachery
It had been quite a long time since anyone could remember Tokyo being this lit-up. Neon signs were ablaze in several colors--blue, pink, yellow, green, et cetera. Billboards were up all about, issuing the same announcement. The celebration even went so far as to putting a scrolling marquee on a blimp flying through the city skies. All the brightness and calamity of the city held the same message; that the Silver Devil himself, Lee Chaolan, had indeed won the second King of Iron Fist Tournament.
A lone light shone on like a beacon from the forty-seventh floor of the Mishima Conglomerate's business tower. The room seemed vacant enough; a simple yet expensive oak desk with potted palm trees on either side, a black leather swivel chair behind the desk, and large, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the electric celebration, were all that was inside the small, brightly-lit room. One could sense a human presence in the room, though. For one, the swivel chair was was turned in an unusual manner; the chair's backside faced the door.
A moment later, a low chuckle rang out in the seemingly empty room. The chair turned soundlessly to reveal the form of the Iron Fist champion, Lee Chaolan. The adopted son of Heihachi Mishima, Lee had soundly and to many unexpectedly beaten all combatants who had stood in his way of glory. A smirk upon his face, Lee propped his boot-clad feet upon the desk, lacing his fingers together behind his had and reclining in the chair. His chair. His company. His championship. It was all his. No more Heihachi lurking in the shadows. No more Kazuya to order him around and remind him that he wasn't a `true' Mishima.
Lee recalled the trials and tribulations he had gone through to even get involved in the second tournament in the first place. The first one had been a near disaster for him. Kazuya had blazed through that one, defeating everyone in his way--Lee included--and then had thrown Heihachi--his own father--off of a cliff. In order to get his older brother to trust him again, Lee had approached Kazuya about entering the second tournament, and had only been allowed in after agreeing to be Kazuya Mishima's secretary.
"His secretary," Lee spit out to himself with a sneer. "Now who's the underdog, Kazuya?" A dark look overcame Lee's façade as he recalled the emotional punishment he had taken from his adopted `brother,' and the look of shock on his face when Lee was proclaimed the Iron Fist champion. He then remembered the looks on both Kazuya and Heihachi's faces when they had been thrown into prison. That, of course, had been Lee's first line of business after taking over the Conglomerate. He had to wonder at times why he'd decided to keep them alive though--after all the pain he had gone through in his childhood as an orphan on the streets of China, then the additional pain of living with the Mishimas.
Angrily, Lee raised his fist and drew it across his throat, thinking about sentencing both Mishimas to death for everything they had caused him. Then a second, better thought came to mind. Perhaps he would let them live in prison. Allow them to feel the pain he himself had felt all his life, and make them regret every single horrible thing they had put him through.
With that in mind, a devious smile came across Lee Chaolan's lips.
It had been quite a long time since anyone could remember Tokyo being this lit-up. Neon signs were ablaze in several colors--blue, pink, yellow, green, et cetera. Billboards were up all about, issuing the same announcement. The celebration even went so far as to putting a scrolling marquee on a blimp flying through the city skies. All the brightness and calamity of the city held the same message; that the Silver Devil himself, Lee Chaolan, had indeed won the second King of Iron Fist Tournament.
A lone light shone on like a beacon from the forty-seventh floor of the Mishima Conglomerate's business tower. The room seemed vacant enough; a simple yet expensive oak desk with potted palm trees on either side, a black leather swivel chair behind the desk, and large, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the electric celebration, were all that was inside the small, brightly-lit room. One could sense a human presence in the room, though. For one, the swivel chair was was turned in an unusual manner; the chair's backside faced the door.
A moment later, a low chuckle rang out in the seemingly empty room. The chair turned soundlessly to reveal the form of the Iron Fist champion, Lee Chaolan. The adopted son of Heihachi Mishima, Lee had soundly and to many unexpectedly beaten all combatants who had stood in his way of glory. A smirk upon his face, Lee propped his boot-clad feet upon the desk, lacing his fingers together behind his had and reclining in the chair. His chair. His company. His championship. It was all his. No more Heihachi lurking in the shadows. No more Kazuya to order him around and remind him that he wasn't a `true' Mishima.
Lee recalled the trials and tribulations he had gone through to even get involved in the second tournament in the first place. The first one had been a near disaster for him. Kazuya had blazed through that one, defeating everyone in his way--Lee included--and then had thrown Heihachi--his own father--off of a cliff. In order to get his older brother to trust him again, Lee had approached Kazuya about entering the second tournament, and had only been allowed in after agreeing to be Kazuya Mishima's secretary.
"His secretary," Lee spit out to himself with a sneer. "Now who's the underdog, Kazuya?" A dark look overcame Lee's façade as he recalled the emotional punishment he had taken from his adopted `brother,' and the look of shock on his face when Lee was proclaimed the Iron Fist champion. He then remembered the looks on both Kazuya and Heihachi's faces when they had been thrown into prison. That, of course, had been Lee's first line of business after taking over the Conglomerate. He had to wonder at times why he'd decided to keep them alive though--after all the pain he had gone through in his childhood as an orphan on the streets of China, then the additional pain of living with the Mishimas.
Angrily, Lee raised his fist and drew it across his throat, thinking about sentencing both Mishimas to death for everything they had caused him. Then a second, better thought came to mind. Perhaps he would let them live in prison. Allow them to feel the pain he himself had felt all his life, and make them regret every single horrible thing they had put him through.
With that in mind, a devious smile came across Lee Chaolan's lips.