If it is normal, then it is speech.
If it is in italics, then it is thought.
If it is in bold, then it is the character's natural tongue.
If it is in underline, then it is Devil.
I'd like to say thanks to the following people who've reviewed and put in their kind words and advice: Marron Everard, QueenDelacroix, Divinely Ethereal, Chichi4goku, AngelEyes87.
You people have given me some more bravery to put up some chapters.
So I thought I'd treat you lot, and give you three new chapters to have a read.
Enjoy.
And yes... the last part was inspired by the intro to Tekken 4 :P
Author's Note: Chapter edited 12/04/2009.
Chapter Four: The Revelation
Old, but forever strong and resilient, Heihachi Mishima stood by the side of the stage, watching the coming fighters gather in Seoul Town Square. A multitude of Koreans were amongst them, all sporting the same, black hair and the same, thin forms. Strangely, though, he recognised a few familiar faces amongst the swarm.
Nina Williams, participant of every single Iron Fist Tournament so far. Her blonde hair stood out amongst them all, even as she dropped pen and walked away, having just signed up. He watched her stalk away, and for a moment, remembered her battles. Yes, she was a formidable fighter, and he had a lot of respect for the Irish woman, but… her skill did not match his. No one's skill matched his, for he was the strongest fighter the world had ever seen.
But still, he wondered why she was in Korea. It was quite possible that she was working. And if Nina had signed up, then surely at some other place in the world, avoiding his gaze, then Anna Williams would've signed up as well. She would undoubtedly show up. Both had 'slept' for nineteen, long years, after all… Sleeping beauties.
Beyond the assassin was Julia Chang, Michelle Chang's adoptive daughter. Although they were not blood related, he could certainly see Michelle's qualities, as well as appearance, shine through in the youngster. At the other side of the ground was the brick-head Paul Phoenix, who was busy talking to Forrest Law, son of Marshall Law. He paused for a moment, making sure that his eyes weren't going on him. Marshall himself wasn't in the picture at all. Curious.
…Why were they all here? He supposed that they missed out on when they advertised in their corresponding countries, and came to here, the last leg of the tour. Yes, the Tournament was very close by, and he couldn't wait. Just the very thought of fighting made his blood boil and furiously run through his veins, catapulting him into an adrenalin-filled high.
Secluded the furthest away from the growing number of competitors were two new comers he had never seen before, and who definitely stood out from the norm. A boy, about Jin's age and height, sporting red hair with an Asiatic face, slammed his leg into the suspecting, guarding forearms of a girl, who appeared to be slightly younger. She was not Asian – that fact was clear, even from this distance. The force of the boy's kick shook her up slightly, her brown hair splaying around a little.
The boy was clearly trained in Tae Kwon Do. The girl attacked back, and he noticed that she had heavy elements of Tae Kwon Do in her fighting too, as well as a large blob of something else. It was that 'something else' that proved to be interesting to him. Perhaps it was a self-taught style, or a family style, like his Mishima-Style Fighting Karate.
They were doing quite well actually. Heihachi was drawn to watch them for a while, inspecting their moves. Considering the very fact that they were practicing, it indicated to him that they were quite serious about the whole thing. The boy delivered a powerful kick, straight to the girl's legs, which made her buckle. She recovered quickly, ducking under another kick, and tripped him over with a small flick of her feet. They both paused, and then laughed, the girl helping the boy up to his feet. These two were clearly friends. The Mishima elder wondered what would happen if they had to fight each other in the tournament. That is, if they made it far enough.
"Sir?" a young, trembling, accented asked.
He responded, "Yes? What is it?"
"We're going live in five minutes."
"Very well. Thank you," he continued watching them.
The man tottered away, passing various other organisers, and Jin himself. The young Japanese boy watched him go, before setting his chocolate brown eyes on his Grandfather. Walking over cautiously, with folded arms, he cleared his throat before speaking somewhat hesitantly, not sure if he should bother opening his mouth, "What are you doing?"
"There are two people sparring down below. They're good, and make for good entertainment, so I am watching them. Is there a problem with that, oh grandson of mine?"
Jin raised an eyebrow and stood beside the old man, taking a peek for himself. What he saw shocked him.
Hwoarang and Razer. What the hell were they doing here? He – she – the fight – her shoulder – what?
His mind began to spin as fast as their feet were flying. He studied the Korean's moves, actually realising that his stirring comments the previous night were far from the truth. He was actually quite good. It's strange how one notices such things from outside the fight, from an objective perspective. Hwoarang excelled in kicking strategies, and Razer seemed quite balanced in both hand and footwork.
"Something wrong? You look like something is bothering you," Heihachi stated blandly, feigning concern.
Jin snapped out of it and looked to him, before leaving rather quickly, "They're good."
Curious, the Mishima elder raised both eyebrows. Why did his grandson suddenly seem so bothered? Perhaps the foolish child did leave the hotel and get into trouble, without him knowing, with Xiaoyu by his side. He did notice some minor injuries on his body. A scrape here, a cut there, but he was being so careful to hide them from him that he just… now knew. They pair had come across these two.
Dismissing the thoughts, he noticed that the misfits had stopped sparring and were now just talking, with a playful shove here and there, accompanied by a youthful giggle. He monitored them for a few more moments before deciding to take his leave and head out onto the stage. Placing a calm, pleasant mask upon his face, he walked out, hearing silence sweep the area and feeling hundreds of eyes stare up at him. He knew what he was going to say. A routine speech he had said time and time again, warning them of the dangers, asking them to be careful, and so on and so forth.
The man himself, Heihachi Mishima. No need for an introduction.
Finally standing before them, silence swept over them, awe taking sound's place. Some clapping lazily occurred in the back, but it did not spur on others. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Jin standing to his left (as far away from the pair as possible, he noticed, despite the fact that his gaze was clearly focused on them) and Xiaoyu on his right.
Inwardly sighing, he stood a little taller, chin raised, and spoke into the microphone, his voice booming across the area, "Greetings one and all! Thank you all for coming. You have entered yourselves into the toughest fighting competition on the planet! No other competition can match the fame, strength and glory of the King Of Iron Fist Tournaments; and by entering, you have proven that you are game enough to give it a shot.
"People have gone missing in this tournament. Others have died. But in the spirit of the competition, you, the fighters, continue to return to honour them. The notion of death does not deter you from your own personal goal, whether that is fame, fortunate, a test of strength, or merely to make friends. You stand strong, and you prepare yourselves for battle, with no doubt in your soul. You raise your fists, and you are ready.
"But there are others who are just as determined as you are. There are other fighters whose skills precede yours, and it is here that you must keep calm. We cannot simply accept everybody into the core of the tournament, hence why we have had the preliminary matches around the world. Korea… you and your fruitful fighters are the last to be challenged. The best fighters from here will travel to Japan, to participate in the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 3.
"The battles will commence in three days. Tomorrow, the tables will be drawn up, with all the signed fighters, and they will be posted on our website. Please check your times and who you are fighting against. Remember them well, for you must defeat them to get the few remaining places we have left. Fight valiantly and smartly. Those who secure these spots will be briefed on further actions at the end of the day. And with nothing left to say, I wish you all the best of luck. Be careful, and have fun."
With a stiff, respectful bow, he gracefully stalked off stage, into the waiting arms of the media. Microphones and cameras were already out, about to ask him a barrage of questions on the current tournament, past tournaments, fighters, and so on. Xiaoyu and Jin followed behind him, as though they were bodyguards.
Meanwhile, back amongst the dispersing crowd, Hwoarang rested his hands behind his head, growling in frustration, "And we don't have a computer at the hideout. How lovely. Any idea how we're going to get the information?"
"Um… internet café," Razer muttered, smiling slightly, "We have money, remember?"
He paused for a moment, his temper simmering down at lightning speed, before chuckling a little, "…Oh yeah."
"You're silly, Hwoarang."
"Shut up!" he couldn't hide the grin, "Anyway, are you hungry?"
"No."
"Aw, okay. I'm gonna go and get some more food for me then. Meet me back at the hideout, alright?"
A nod, "Sure. I am just going to check out the competitors, seeing as your stomach is controlling your brain."
He rolled his eyes and lightly hugged her before leaving, "See ya."
She nodded once more, half listening, her eyes scanning over the vast array of people. Most were chatting with one another, laughing and so on, whilst a few others were cockily inspecting the registration sheet. She was surprised at the amount of people who weren't Korean. Did the girl with blonde hair live here in Korea, like she did? Did the man with the scorpion tattoo run a bike gang here? Did the man with the menacing scar going down the side of his face live out of town in a small apartment?
So many stories to share, so little time to tell them.
Razer narrowed her eyes slightly and growled under her breath. She folded her arms across her stomach, and her mouth maintained the appearance of a firm, unmoving line. Ignoring the darker side within her, she continued looking at them all. There were people here of all ages. Some were younger than her, others were much older. There appeared to be a healthy population of thirty-to-forty-year-olds as well, something she was intrigued about. Perhaps they were veterans?
The man with the blonde, brick hair is up himself. You can see it in his smug smirk. Too much confidence. It will be his downfall.
She sighed silently, communicating with the creature inside, Can you leave me alone?
Can't I see my competitors?
They are my competitors.
And I am a part of you. Therefore they are mine as well.
I never asked for you to be with me. Get lost.
He's American. His general disposition greatly reminds me of Hwoarang.
Fuck off already! she was so, so close to yelling out loud.
This third attempt seemed to have worked. The devil within silenced entirely, knowing it was better to push her boundaries later, and in a much more suitable situation… preferably during the tournament, where she could have some fun. Some of the competitors would undoubtedly get on her host's nerves, let alone her own; and it will be in those seconds that she could take over her form as a whole, and harness the anger for her own manipulative purposes.
Straying from her thoughts, Devil paused. She sensed someone akin to her.
Razer also picked up on her sudden silence, and paused as well, looking to the ground, trying to analyse this source. Was it from within herself? Was it merely Devil longing for companionship, or was there actually another being out there somewhere? It didn't make any sense… She bit her lip, and opened her eyes after a set period of time, I am the only one with this curse. Why should she pick up another?
Figuring it was time to leave, the youth straightened her shoulders and looked over everyone one last time, before turning away.
"I know the burden you carry."
Her head snapped around again to see her opponent from the previous night. He was standing not too far away from her, leaning against the concrete wall with his hands in his pockets, head directed down, though eyes squarely on her. She took a few steps towards him, straightening herself up, and folded her arms. He was looking for trouble, honestly, "What're you on about, Snobby Rich Kid?"
"Your Devil Gene, Razer," he responded curtly, tilting his head back so it comfortably rested against the wall.
No use in hiding anymore, is there? You are cornered.
I can handle myself!
I'm sure you can, Devil replied sarcastically.
She decided to deny his statement blandly, feeling it was the safest option. Unfortunately, the phrased she used was a dead giveaway to him. Couple such a declaration with a mechanical, forced monotonous tone of voice, and it was clear to the one being addressed that it was a very poor lie. Then again, she sadly couldn't lie very well. Hwoarang had told her this numerous times, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
Jin moved from the wall and casually walked over to the Greek, until he was directly before her. He noticed that she was about a head, perhaps a head and a half shorter than he was. He looked down at her, trying to hide a coy smile from his lips, before opening them, speaking firmly, "I think you do…" Raising his right hand, he pointed to where her mark was, only on his own body. It would've been inappropriate to demonstrate it on her, "Right there."
In silence, she tore her gaze from his hip and looked to her own, defeated. Pulling the side of her black jeans down a little, she gazed at the thing, its black ink forever mingled within her own skin. The top of it was visible to the two of them, and with remorse, she put her hand over it, looked away and spoke, "How did you know?"
"I saw it yesterday, when you were using your 'scarf' item as a sling. I am sorry for hurting you so bad."
She looked up through narrowed eyes, meeting chocolate brown ones, "Oh you are, are you?"
He nodded politely, "Sorry. But I didn't come here just for that. I wanted to ask about your Gene."
"I think you've asked enough questions," she retorted, anger creeping up in her voice, "How do you know about the Devil Gene? This stupid curse? There's no way in hell that you would understand the torment that this… this… thing inflicts."
"Don't be so sure…" he responded uneasily. He looked around for a brief moment before inhaling a large amount of breath, rolling up his left sleeve. The shirt was somewhat of a tight fit, so it made it noticeably difficult to roll up his muscled arm. He managed, though, and it eventually it got there.
She stared. Another mark, identical to hers. From the topmost point right down to the bottom. For the time that she had known of the entity's existence, she was told, she had believed that she was the only one with this curse. The odd one out, the one who was like a ticking time bomb amongst her fellow humans. And Devil reminded her of this, day in and day out. With every waking moment, she was reminded of the monster she was.
She wanted to speak, but at the moment, she could barely think. The only thoughts crossing through her mind were jumbled, but understandable. How that could be, she didn't know, He's just like me. He understands!
Noticing that the penny had indeed dropped, Jin swiftly pushed his sleeve back down before quietly, yet openly speaking once more in a hushed murmur, "My Father sold his soul to the Devil… and as a result, when I was born, I had the curse too."
"Yeah… My… story is along the same line…" she muttered.
Reunited at last, but not in unification… And so the hunt begins, my dear Razer. I will be reunited with his devilish portion, and you cannot stop nor avoid it. It is impossible for you to resist this need, for I am the true you.
She suddenly exploded in her native tongue and pushed her palms against her temples. The unexpectedness of the actions frightened Jin for a moment, before he realised that the reasons for these actions was because of her own inner turmoil. Pity swelled up within him, for he had been subjected to such harm from the entity for most of his life and recognised what was going on. Putting both hands on her shoulders and shaking her lightly, he spoked, his voice low, "Razer, look at me. You can fight it. You can ignore it. Just look at me."
Surprised by the action, she tore her eyes open forcefully, and looked at him, trying to distract herself. It seemed to be working, for the devil within's voice gradually faded away into nothing. Her influence had (finally) withered away, if only for these temporary moments. Finally pulling her hands away from herself, she looked down, then back up again with a slight grin and a stronger voice, "Thanks, Snobby Rich Kid."
The Japanese youth hurriedly released his grip and cleared his throat, "I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, with the fight and everything. I forgot that you and your group have a difficult life, and that the fights are basically the only way that you can earn some cash. For that, I also apologise…" He stuck his hand out and inclined his head slightly, being as polite as possible, "Jin Kazama."
Hesitantly, the 18-year-old took it and shook it, her hand encased in his firm grip, smiling a tiny bit, "Razer Athane. And I gotta say, it feels so good to know that someone else understands all this unwanted crap."
He smiled too, released her hand, allowing it to fall back by his side, and steered the conversation elsewhere. He didn't want Heihachi or any of his cronies to be listening, nor for both their spirits to be dragged further down into the dirt. He immediately attacked the topic he knew would not fail, "Are you participating in the tournament this year?"
"Mhm. Me and Hwoarang are gonna go all the way. And then we're gonna get a proper house for all ten of us."
"Ten?" Jin inquired, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Me, Hwoarang, and the rest of the gang. There's ten of us. That was only half our force last night."
He nodded, "I see. I believe you and your friend will do well. You both have undoubtable skill."
She folded her arms and idly tapped her cheek, "I wonder what Japan is like… seeing as that's where it will be."
"While it is nice, it gets boring after a while."
"Hey, sleeping in a fancy hotel for a while is better than living in an abandoned shop," she countered, grinning.
Jin also grinned, "I suppose…"
Silence swarmed them once more, and cut through the air like a knife. Both had dozens of questions dancing on the end of their tongues, simply about the Devil Gene and how they coped with it… but it was an inappropriate topic to talk about, and also not the best of places to talk about it. Finding another topic to discuss proved challenging and difficult.
Soon enough, the silence shattered, and a high-pitched, youthful female voice was the cause, "Jin!"
Jin smiled, watching the pink blur rush to stand by his side, "Hey Xiaoyu."
"Hey yourself," she smiled a little more, ruffling a hand through her thin black hair, before noticing that her best friend had company. He turned to observe the woman wholly, before almost jumping out of her skin, gasping harshly. She raised a petite hand, curled a few fingers back, and pointed at the person, "You!!"
"Hi midget," Razer responded blankly.
The Chinese girl crossed her arms and huffed. Why did everyone always pick on her height? "What did you say?"
It seemed the other woman noticed this, and smirked, "How are you, Midget?"
Abruptly, Xiaoyu turned her head away and faced the 19-year-old once more, "Why are you talking to the chick you fought last night? Did you manage to convince her to give the people their money back or something?"
Kazama hesitated, "Oh… Um… I just saw her here and asked if she was coming to the tournament, that's all."
Razer restrained the urge to raise her eyebrow. Devil spoke, Interesting. This child does not know about his condition.
She might.
Then why would he sell her the half truth? To protect you? Don't make me laugh, Athane.
Xiaoyu piped up again, "Oh alrighty, because Heihachi has been searching for you. He said that we've gotta go back to the hotel, because we're leaving for home tomorrow! You know, seeing as we're already qualified for this and all."
Jin nodded and spoke quickly, venom slowly dripping from his voice, "Go tell that Murderer that I will be there in a moment."
Murderer? What a harsh and absurd declaration to make about such an old, blind fool…
This is not our place, she answered, fiddling with the ends of her long-sleeved light blue shirt.
Ling eventually sprinted off, leaving the pair alone once more. Jin scratched his neck and hesitantly spoke once more, "I guess I should be going. It was nice talking to you. I will see you and your Hwoarang friend in Japan."
He turned to leave, but was stopped by Razer's voice, "Wait! How are we going to get there?"
"The miserable man I unhappily call my Grandfather is the one holding this thing. Through the Mishima Zaibatsu, he will fund for all successful competitors to fly to Japan, and to house them in the MFE's own hotel, located in Tokyo. You will receive further information once you and your conceited companion are successful in knocking out the majority of these amateurs…" Tilting his head towards some of the competitors for a brief moment, he returned his gaze to the Greek, and bowed his head, speaking one last time, "Good bye, Razer."
She followed suit, not wanting to offend her new 'friend', "See ya, Kazama."
She too turned away, making an exit, slightly amused by his hurriedness to leave. It was as though he was worried about something, but whatever that 'something' was, she didn't know. It didn't involve her, and in no way was she going to intrude. Stifling a yawn and rubbing her forest green eyes, she assumed that Hwoarang had long returned to the hideout by now, and was awaiting for her return so she could inform him of her opinions.
Someone was listening.
What?
Someone was eavesdropping. I can smell them, and their surprise and fear. Destroy them before they give away this information, and before you are both exposed to the world around you to be quite literally hell's spawn.
Razer nodded briefly and subconsciously straightened up again, following her devil self's highly sensitive scent senses. It was quite a useful tool, even in the most unusual of situations. It eventually led her to the wall that Jin was previously leaning against, but for some reason, it was still being blocked out, despite the scent's strength. It was as though there was someone behind the wall. Maybe the wall was hollow, or perhaps there was somebody on the other side of the stage.
They are still there, Athane. They sweat, for they know you are there. Act swiftly.
Without a second thought, she jumped onto the stage with a heavy thud, oblivious to the few, curious glances that were thrown her way, and turned the corner. Immediately, she saw a man in a green armour and uniform, sporting a large helmet. He was dashing away hurriedly, running as fast as his feet allowed him to. She followed after him, wondering why some random person decided to send an armoured man to eavesdrop on two teenagers.
Perhaps it was this… Murderer guy that Kazama was speaking of. Heihachi, or something like that…
You said that was not our place. Do not wonder. Just kill him.
"Get back here!" she growled, running past various, blurry people. At one point, she swore she saw that Xiaoyu girl amongst them, but it didn't matter. The people in the background were not her focus point – it was that damn eavesdropper. She continued running, noticing that he had met a closed exit door, and was furiously trying to open it, but to no avail.
She took this opportunity to make her move. She crashed into his unsuspecting form, knocking him over, but maintaining her own balance. Grabbing the back of his fallen form, she tossed him into the nearby wall, quickly striking him once across the face, whilst clutching the front of his shirt. She held him firmly, a hand firmly gripping his throat, "The hell were you doing listening in on a private conversation?! What right do you have to do that!?"
She couldn't see the fear in his eyes, but the devil within could indeed smell it. In addition, the entity picked up on something that her host did not, Look at his helmet. There is a camera. He was sent to spy on someone, whether it was you or Mr Kazama, or some other random; for a specific purpose. He might even have footage, let alone a sound file. Destroy the information and the man. Your secret cannot be found out. I cannot be revealed.
She felt the anger within grow more, due to the devil within. Why did someone want such information? Looking directly into the camera and raised her clenched fist, aiming it to collide with the camera. Thereafter, she would snap the man's neck. But before she did, she glared harshly into the camera line, speaking to whoever was on the other end, "You… Whoever you are, whatever it is you're looking for… You won't get it."
Two quickly executed moves led to the camera's destruction and the man's death. With a large exhalation, she dropped the corpse, moving it into the far corner, where darkness resided. Someone would eventually find him, and she indeed felt guilty for her actions, but… but… As much as she wanted to justify it, without the Devil's explanation, she couldn't. With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, she backtracked the way she came, and left the area, going well out of Seoul Town Square.
She passed the McDonalds that she and the Blood Talon had eaten at earlier, and low and behold, he was coming out, a coke in hand. His voice flowed in, disrupting her from her many thoughts, "Raze!"
She slowed to a stop, curiosity plastered all over her visage, "You took that long to eat?"
"Took that long to order," he retorted, thereafter inquiring, "What's the rush?"
"What rush? There's no rush! Stop accusing me of rushing," she lied.
Needless to say, Hwoarang knew she was lying, and quirked an eyebrow. Scratching the back of his head, he moved along with her, "Well… We'll go home then, I guess. Besides… There's nothing more for us to do here."
The man chuckled to himself, stalking around the corner to where his deceased and useless spy now lay. The cold hands of death had come and apprehended his soul swiftly, leaving no gift except for the pool of his own blood that surrounded him. He continued to chuckle, making no attempts to muffle it, and bent over, rubbing his bald head, reaching for the new destroyed electrical equipment.
Opening the small compartment near the visor, he removed the taped data that the now destroyed camera had recorded, grinning gleefully. He glanced at the Tekken Force soldier in an uncaring fashion, and stood a little straighter. Raising his head, the 73-year-old man mumbled under his breath in his native language, spinning the flimsy item in his hand, "Oh, but I did get what I want, little girl… The information is right here."
All that mattered was this tape, this… information. Proof that she too possessed the Devil Gene. And now, he had it.
There were two pathways to achieving his goal.
