Sometime before the 6th Tekken Tournament.
A pair of gloved hands raised the pistol to ready, as ice blue eyes took careful aim at the paper silhouette target 16 meters down range. A finger padded the trigger, gently pulling back until... BLAM! The distinctive, high pitched crack of a 9mm round being fired echoed throughout the indoor range, followed shortly by the subtle metallic pinging of the ejected brass casing bouncing off the hard cement floor. The target now had a neat hole slightly high and right of its centre- exactly where a man's heart would lie.
There was a brief moment of silence as the markswoman contemplated the feel of the shot, before nonchalantly dumping the rest of the magazine's contents, no less than 14 rounds, onto the paper target, a process that barely lasted 6 seconds. What had been a neat, centimetre wide bullet hole on the target following the first shot had now become a ragged, CD sized cavity. She flicked a switch and her target came whizzing back to her from the rails on the roof. After swapping out the target with a fresh one, she removed her ear muffs and safety goggles, letting them hang around her neck and off the collar of her shirt, respectively.
All it had taken was that first pull of the trigger for her to diagnose what modifications she would need to make. The following magazine dump was simply her curiosity as to how well the gun could perform in its factory form.
While a 10cm, 14 shot group at 16 meters was an already impressive result, to do it in under 6 seconds with an out-of-the box pistol was almost unheard of.
The gun was impressive, especially when compared with the Beretta knockoffs the Zaibatsu issued to its low ranking grunts. It was a full sized SIG P226, a firearm renowned worldwide for its accuracy and reliability.
It was only a few years ago, a time before her recruitment into the Zaibatsu, on a botched joint operation involving both the CIA and MI6, that she had first come across the model. Miscommunication between the two agencies led to loose ends not being not tied up, ultimately leading to her cover being compromised. After surviving the initial ambush she had managed to scavenge a stainless steel model from one of her fallen comrades. The thing was amazingly pleasant and smooth to shoot; she'd fallen in love with it after killing just two people.
She'd been itching to get one for herself ever since but it was only until recently that she had actually been able purchase one, now that Kazama had finally lifted the restrictions on Zaibatsu officers carrying personal side arms.
She shifted the gun around in her hand, examining its angles and the way the light reflected off of the black metal slide. Not only did it shoot nicely, it was pretty to look at too.
Adhering to strict firearms safety, she set the gun down on the table and cleared her work space of any ammunition, before ejecting the empty magazine and triple checking that the chamber was empty. She then began the arduous, but strangely calming process of completely disassembling the gun.
For a several minutes the indoor range was silent, the only sounds being the occasional clinking of metal parts rubbing against each other, as the blonde woman set about adjusting the trigger weight of the gun.
That was one reason she preferred going to range at so late into the night. It was quiet and there were no beginners with poor trigger discipline that she needed to be wary of. Plus, an empty range meant that no one could complain about her using multiple lanes for running target transition drills. Of course, she could always just pull rank on anyone that did try to complain to her. But doing would come at a cost.
Keeping her status in the Zaibatsu low profile was more valuable to her as an active operator. Staying under the radar made her less identifiable, less likely to become targeted by any double agents working for anyone on the Zaibatsu's long list of enemies. With the exception of GCorp of course; it was too late to hide from them. They already knew everything about her. Ugh. Siblings.
Lying low also meant that she never had to deal with the constant complaints and requests that flooded in from the Financial Management offices down in 3 West. And the Research Department over in Building 7. And Data Analysis in Sector 5. All of that stuff she could leave for Mr. Gordo to attend to.
She smirked at the thought as she replaced the slide back onto the frame and dry fired.
"Click"
Hmm. Still too heavy. She began to strip down the firearm once again.
Not a day went by without somebody from the lower levels storming into Gordo's office. Watching him struggle to keep his cool was part of her daily entertainment.
She suddenly felt the air shift behind her. Someone had just opened the door to the range. She let out a sigh of disappointment when she heard footsteps walk into the lane on her left.
Heavy footsteps; combat boots.
She her donned ear and eye protection again before continuing her work on the gun, not showing any outward interest to the new presence beside her. Internally however, she was assessing the newcomer's level of threat.
Combat boots meant active duty, so either Zaibatsu Armed Forces or Base Security. It was also possible that she was within killing distance of an assassin, but the chances of that were minute. No professional would dare take her on in hand to hand combat, at least not without trying sneak up on her first. Whoever it was that just walked into the range had done so with deliberately heavy footsteps; they had wanted to make their presence known.
"Hey sweet cake,"
Ugh. That was the other difficulty that came with staying low.
Men. The vast majority of them didn't respect her unless she showed them her stars.
The woman glanced at the newcomer, taking a second to look him up and down before returning to her work, without a single word.
He was a, white male with brown hair and gray eyes; early 30's in age. The all black uniform meant he was part of Base Sec, with the red beret signifying he was in an elite unit. Apart from the black plastic case in his hand, everything else he had on him was standard equipment.
She heard him grunt at her lack of response.
From the corner of her eye, she could see that the man was quite large bodied. She estimated his measurements at about 6' 3" on 180 pounds; a small giant compared to her more compact frame. But that didn't worry her. After all; the taller they were, the harder they fell.
Again she pulled her guns slide back into place, the faint "chick" indicating that everything was properly seated. The blonde then pointed it down range and dry fired to test the trigger weight.
"Click"
She let out a rare smile. It was perfect.
"Well isn't that a cute little thing?" remarked the meathead next to her. She noticed that he was standing little closer to her he had been before.
Ignoring him, she began to load the cartridges into the magazines she had with her. The brute didn't seem to catch her drift however, and continued talking to the air around him.
"But it's a pea shooter compared to what I've got,"
A bright glint caught the corner of her eye and she reflexively looked up towards its source.
"Oh. Looks like I've finally got your attention,"
Tch. Reacting to glints of light was a habit she'd picked up from many years of killing. Out in the field a glint of light usually meant a sniper had their sights on you.
From the briefcase he had taken out a huge, brightly polished revolver, the barrel of which easily matching the length of her forearm.
"It's a Taurus Raging Bull. Chambered in .500 Magnum of course,"
Wow. What a fitting name for such an obnoxious gun.
"Impressive huh? I guess girls really do like 'em big."
She loaded the final cartridge into her magazine before inserting it into the gun. She was done hearing this idiot speak; time to drown out his voice with gun fire.
BLAM! She shot the target in the heart region, like she had done before.
"Not bad, girlie. But you'd kill the guy faster if you aimed for the he-"
BLAM! The blonde hit the target square in the head.
"Hey you're pretty good. But two handed shooting is just basic stuff. Elites like me train to shoot with just one-,"
BLAM! The woman shot the target in the head again. This time with just one hand.
"Hmpf. It's still only a peashooter. You wouldn't be able to handle my gu-"
The man's voice disappeared underneath a hail of rapid gun fire. She had fired the rest of her bullets into the crotch of the target in the man's lane. One handed. While looking directly at him.
When the echoes subsided she lifted up one of her ear muffs and turned towards him.
"Sorry did you say something?" she said with false innocence.
It took the imbecile a few moments to comprehend what had just happened. When he realized that his target had been destroyed, his face contorted in anger.
"Oh. Was that yours? Sorry!" she goaded.
In anticipation she readied herself in a discreet combat stance, turning her body ever so slightly into a bladed position. She kept her hands down by her side, inviting him to strike first.
"Bitch that was my target!" he shouted as he lunged towards her, his right hand raised, ready to slap.
The guy didn't stand a chance.
The moment he moved towards her she had darted forward with a low, forward push-kick counter. Her foot hit its mark at the top of his left shin, their colliding forces causing his leg to snap backwards unnaturally at the knee with an audible "snap".
The man roared in pain as fell onto her work bench.
"AAAGH MY LEG! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU BITCH!"
Ugh. So vulgar.
She grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back in an arm lock.
"Stand," she commanded while applying upward pressure to the captured limb.
Through gritted teeth the man muttered, "Sorry. But I don't take orders from women."
The woman let out a sigh of annoyance. The guy just didn't want to learn. With a quick thrust she cranked his arm upwards, effortlessly dislocating his shoulder with a grisly "pop".
He squealed at the pain as she loosened her grip on his arm, letting it hang loose by his side; only for her take hold of his other arm and apply the same joint lock.
"Stand," she repeated coldly.
This time he did as he was told. With her hand grasping his collar she helped pull him to a stand. Good boy.
"Wha-," his jaw clenched as a wave of pain shot through his leg. "What do you want with me?"
"Hmm? Oh relax, I won't do anything to you," she said reassuringly, watching that familiar glimmer of hope flash in his eyes.
"I just wanted you to get off my work bench,"
With that she let go of his collar, watching his hope turn into fear as he fell to the cement floor with a thud.
How pathetic. Where had all that arrogance from earlier gone?
"Fucking whore." he said under his breath.
Oh there it was. Time to stamp it out for good.
With a hand on her hip, she nonchalantly stepped on his already broken knee, twisting her foot from side to side as she did so; quite literally stamping out the last remnants of his ego.
The yelping continued for two whole minutes before she finally let off.
"You won't get away with this," he managed to gasp once he caught his breath, "I know Mr. Kazama personally."
His statement sparked her curiosity.
"Really now?" the blonde asked with raised brow. She was calling bullshit.
"I'm being serious. I even have a meeting with him next Monday."
His unwavering eyes told her that he was telling the truth. She frowned. Kazama almost never asked to see anyone other than herself and Gordo. For what reason did he need to meet with a chump like this? Who was this guy?
The blonde dropped down to her haunches, ripping open the front his shirt to expose the silver ball chain around his neck, and the aluminium identification tags that hung from it. Clasping one of them in her hand she read the details stamped into the thin metal.
516-25-0915
B positive
MJR Balder,
Matthew J.
B-SEC, (Elite)
MJR. Major Balder.
So he wasn't just a chump after all. But how? He looked much too young for that rank. And nobody in their right mind would trust this guy to lead an entire elite unit. Who on earth let this guy become such a big shot?
Balder noticed her change in expression and smirked.
It couldn't have been Jin Kazama, he was better than that. But then why did he arrange a meeting with Balder?
Her stream of thoughts was interrupted by her cell phone ringing in her pocket. She pulled it out and screened the caller ID. The blonde couldn't help but smirk when she saw his name.
"Well what a coincidence," she remarked as she answered the call.
"Why good evening Mr. Kazama," she began, her tone playful.
The look of disbelief on Balder's face was priceless. "No fuckin' way," he wheezed.
There was short pause before the Zaibatsu head replied.
"Did something happen Williams? You sound... different,"
"No nothing really. My new friend Major Balder here has a few things to say to you though. I believe you two are already acquainted."
With that she tapped the video call option, before setting the device down on Balder's work bench. After a few moments a live holographic feed of Jin Kazama's office materialized above the phone. The young Zaibatsu head was seated in his maroon leather swivel chair behind his desk, facing away from them.
"Sir! Arrest this woman! She attacked a senior officer. She broke my arm and leg!" the Major exclaimed.
Williams heard her employer sigh. He didn't need to be facing toward them for her to know that he was rubbing his temples.
"Major- no, Mr. Balder. Don't bother coming to the meeting next week," Kazama finally turned to face them, completely ignoring Balder's proposition. "Since I can verify that you are in the presence of a senior officer, I can hand you your judgement without having to meet in person."
"Judgement? What are yo-"
"It has been confirmed that you are responsible for at least 34 acts of sexual harassment and 6 acts of assault in the past year, both in and outside of Zaibatsu premises," he cut him off.
"In addition to this you have also been found guilty of the theft and illegal trading of approximately 200 small arms from our shipping containers, over the course of 3 years. With these offences I have no choice but to abolish your service on dishonourable discharge. Starting from now you have 36 hours until you are formally regarded an enemy of the Mishima Zaibatsu, from which point on you will be shot on sight should you be found on any of our premises.
"Dishonourable discharge? You can't do that without the presence of the Depu-"
"Deputy of Internal Affairs? I'm sorry to inform you but, your uncle Mr. Jeffrey Balder has also been relieved of his duty, on the grounds of negligence regarding your offences."
Getting help from the uncle huh? So that's how the guy got so high up in rank.
Balder was beginning to tremble.
"B-b-but what about her?!"
Kazama turned towards her.
"Williams, your input please."
"Well, I accidentally shot his target and then he got angry. I said I was sorry but he still tried to hit me. So, I defended myself by breaking his leg and dislocating his shoulder,"
"I see," the young CEO said simply.
"She's lying! She tortured me until I was at the verge of death!"
The verge of death? Oh please. She had barely taken him a tenth of the way there.
"Mr. Balder this discussion is over," Kazama said irately, "Williams, seize his weapon and access card and meet me in my office,"
"Will do," she affirmed, returning to her usual succinct manner of speech. She moved to terminate the connection.
"Wait!"
Kazama raked a hand through his hair in annoyance.
"What's gonna happen to me? Are you just gonna leave me here? I need medical assistance dammit!"
Williams exchanged glances with Kazama.
"Hmm. It certainly is a bother isn't it?" Once again she watched on as his eyes filled with hope.
"Especially for the medical team. It's a lot of work to set broken bones."
Hope turned to uneasiness at her words.
"Wouldn't it be easier to just send the cleanup crew?
Balder's entire being seemed to deflate at her suggestion. There was a pause as Kazama contemplated her implied proposal. After a moment he finally gave his answer.
"Do what you want, General Williams."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just send the cleanup crew?"
No way.
"Do what you want, General Williams."
No fucking way.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Mr. Kazama cut the feed before he could do so.
No. This wasn't happening. It had to be dream right? There was no way a woman could become a General of the Zaibatsu forces.
He heard something above his head. It was like the clicking of ratchet being turned, but much faster, and continuous. He looked towards the source of the sound. His blood ran cold when he saw it. The woman. She was spinning the cylinder on his gun like a cowboy from a spaghetti western.
Suicide. She was going to kill him with his own gun to make it look like suicide.
Gruesome images of wounds caused by the .500 Magnum suddenly flashed through his mind. He'd researched them on the internet before purchasing the gun. At the time he hadn't thought much of them, they were merely pictures. But now the image of his own head being shattered like watermelon would not leave his mind. Maybe purchasing one of the world's most powerful handguns wasn't such a great idea after all. He began to dry retch.
"Keep it in please," he heard her say, "It's more work for the guys if you throw up."
Although her words only made him want to throw up even more, for some reason his body obeyed her command.
Maybe it was pride that had caused that. He didn't want to his corpse to be found next a puddle of his own vomit.
Her foot suddenly appeared in front of his face causing him to freeze up. That was when he realized just how wrong he was.
It hadn't been pride that had kept him from vomiting-
The woman let out a sigh.
-It had been fear.
"Who- who are you?" he asked in terror.
The woman remained silent as she opened the box of cartridges on his bench. The metallic clinking of the jacketed rounds brushing against each other seemed to echo in his ears.
"You should know that most of the people that know my real name are either dead or on the run," she finally said as she put in the first bullet into the cylinder.
"But, since you asked, I'll tell you," she began unemotionally, inserting the second bullet into the gun.
"I've actually gone by a few names over the years. In Lebanon, I was known as the Ghost of Beirut,"
The third bullet slid into place.
"In Venezuela, I'm the Devil's Bloodhound,"
The forth bullet.
"And in U.S Intelligence circles, I'm simply known as Former Asset: Echo-Six,"
His eyes widened as she dropped the fifth and final bullet into place.
He didn't know of the first two, but he had heard about Echo Assets before. They were freelance assassins the U.S Government had given up on trying to capture and who were instead given money and permission to roam free in exchange for the clandestine use of their services.
The woman about to kill him had been one of those assassins.
The assassin gave the cylinder another spin before flicking it back into position.
"My real name however," she said as she cocked the hammer, "Is Nina."
He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end.
"Nina Williams,"
He shuddered at noise the Taurus made. In the small confines of the room it sounded more like a several cannons being fired one after the other.
Wait. There had been several shots; five to be exact. Was he dead or not?
He suddenly felt something on his face. Tentatively he opened his eyes, only to find that the whole had turned white. It took a moment, but Balder came to realize that his face was being covered by some kind of sheet. With his good arm he lifted the thing off his face.
It was his paper target. The tight group of small bullet holes in the crotch were still there, but the head now had five jagged holes in it. Each hole in the head was easily larger than at least three of the smaller ones put together.
The man gulped. Jesus Christ.
In the bottom corner of the target something had been written in black marker.
"This is what happens to you if you tell anyone," the message read. It was enough to send tremors down his spine.
His eyes frantically searched the room for the assassin, only to find the range was empty, there was no one else except for him.
Balder was alive. He was safe. However his eyes continued to dart around the room in paranoia.
He was afraid. For some reason he couldn't shake a certain feeling from his chest; a feeling that the Beast had only spared him today-
Only so he could be hunted tomorrow.
Author Notes
The first chapter of this story has been sitting half complete on my desktop for almost a year now, only recently did i have the drive to finish it.
Its multi chap but not nearly as long as what i have planned for Unexpected.
And on that note, don't expect this fic to be updated as frequently as Unexpected, AsuLili takes first priority for me. If all goes well, Still Alive should update every one or two months
but anyway, tell me what you think of this first chapter. Its a different style of writing for me, and it required a lot of research to get to the level of realism i that i wanted. Hopefully it payed off in the end
Don't forget to Kudos/Comment. Bye for now.