Hey, its's me and I'm still alive. Guess I'll have to say sorry again. Or I could not. Yeah! Take that! Anyway, I'll have to go on a pretty long hiatus soon because of my GCSE's in May/June (congrats, if you're British you now know my age). But hopefully since it's Easter I can still make it up to the point I intended.
Disclaimer: Own nothing.
"Bastard," breathed Christie, glaring. "That bastard."
On the screen, Jin stared silently into her for several more seconds before turning to static.
"Bastard."
At that moment Lars emerged from the other room, rubbing his shoulder. "It is truly incredible," he said, "how uncomfortable a watch spent on a couch can be. Did you sleep well?"
"Did you hear that?"
Christie continued to stare hatefully into the static, speaking almost to herself. "Jin said he's going to let the tournament continue. After everything that happened last night…"
"Astonishing," Lars stated savagely. "How does that man sleep at night?"
"He doesn't care," Christie went on, "he never cared. I don't think he values human life at all."
Silence fell. Lars considered speaking but Christie's face was so dark and bitter that he decided against it. The ferocity of her anger was, in fact, startling; he couldn't help wondering how much she hid behind the normally nonchalant, superficial exterior.
"Bruce has left," he said finally. "He went just a few hours ago. Says he has business."
"I'm betting he'll rat us out."
"That wouldn't make sense, considering he brought us here. Or, well-" he smiled in spite of himself. "You brought us here. Thank you for saving us, Christie. Bruce too, but- heh- me especially. I'm lucky you appeared when you did."
"I can't take all the credit. After all it wasn't exactly a heroic act. I had just found you when it turned out that- what do you know?- the whole city's gone to war. And to be honest I had no idea if my hotel was safe or not."
He braced. "Hold on… this is just your hotel room?"
She gave a pert, affirmative tilt of the head. "That's taking risks for you."
"Suddenly I feel less grateful."
She laughed despite herself. Not very enthusiastically he went on:
"Since last night I've had reports that the city is split in two. The… rioters, or whatever they are… have taken over small pockets of the city, shooting at anyone trying to enter. The MFE troops still control the most vital areas, but there's no way of knowing the numbers on either side. Regardless, my men have found us a suitable location for an HQ in an unclaimed area."
Christie sat up on her elbows. "HQ? Last time I checked we were contestants, not combatants."
"This is a war," said Lars simply. "There are no innocent civilians- you saw that last night. No one is safe, least of all non-combatants. It's time to choose a side."
"I've always had a side," she snapped. "You think I-"
Lars' mobile went off. He waved her quiet and picked up, hastily retreating back out into the main room.
Christie was left with her resentment.
Seeing Jin on air, daring to give them apologetics about the tragedy- having the sheer insolent gall to look the whole city in the eye and say he regretted what had happened, but the tournament must go on, it was too important to too many people- had awakened in her more hatred than she knew she had. The joy of seeing Eddy again was a memory now, awfully distant; somehow it could never bridge the gap between the city of then and the city of now. After all, when she had seen him there was just a tournament. Now there was war. And it was Jin's fault- unarguably his fault. It was just another of his atrocities.
And an atrocity it was.
When they had escaped that hotel last night, leaping, the three of them, from the first storey window, sneaking quietly away, they had left people behind. People who were destined to burn to death in the fires, or be taken as hostages, or shot by stray bullets. And for Jin to just stand in front of a camera and apologise…
Lars re-entered, ripping her from her thoughts and alerting her of the tingling pain in her hands. She realised she had been clenching them- her fingernails had ripped into her palms and she relaxed them gently.
If Lars had noticed this he gave no sign.
"That was an associate of mine. Miguel. We're going to meet up with them in half an hour and make for the HQ."
"And I guess you're expecting me to come?"
"It's that or stay here."
She forced a smile. "Well you sure know how to keep a girl."
--
It was a strange gathering- the seven of them sitting round that metal table, silent, wrapped up in their thoughts. It felt vastly insignificant- there was nothing to suggest that their decisions would impact the whole of Japan, the whole of the world. When they finally started to speak, each giving their story in turn, there was no indication of the influence their actions would soon carry. They were just words.
After over an hour they came all the way round the table. The six others watched Yoshimitsu silently; as he took a sip from a glass of water he looked back at each of them in turn, noting fingers drumming on the table, hair being brushed back. Nervous twitches. He wondered how many of them fully comprehended the seriousness of the conversation they would soon have. He waited several seconds more, choosing his words, then began:
"Okay. We've given our stories, right up to arriving at Lars' base here. Now we all know what we're looking at. If anyone's had some sort of special revelation let's hear it, because to me… Zaibatsu stock buy-ups; a plan to take Tokyo more elaborate than a tycoon's dinner party; and, finally, trying to recruit other tournament members to help him in his plans. To me it looks like-"
"Like Kazuya doesn't believe he can win the tournament," Lars finished.
Yoshimitsu nodded. "Exactly. And failing that, he's looking for other ways to take the Zaibatsu- and found one, it seems. It's the stem cells. With that alone he's won the war, but with this Devil serum he's more than just unstoppable. He'll be… like a God."
Ieyasu held up a hand. "Hold on a second. We don't even know this serum exists. Kazuya could be bluffing."
Yoshimitsu shook his head grimly. "It exists. I've fought Kazuya in previous tournaments. Believe me, it's real. Besides, it's immaterial. With the stem cells he's won. If it goes, the war's still up in the air. Presumably- hopefully- Jin and the MFE will win by attrition."
"So wait a minute," Christie interrupted suddenly, "your grand plan is to fight to just keep the war going? To hope Jin can win 'by attrition'?"
"At the moment we're just stalling for time," Ieyasu said. "If Kazuya gets the power of that serum he's won the tournament and the war- and we've as good as lost."
"I guess…"
There was a colossal bang on the table. They all looked round. The bang had been Asuka's fist- now she had had stood up with force, a look somewhere between fear and resolve crossing her face. She looked directly at Yoshimitsu with a stare that said explicitly her disbelief about their scheming.
"Forget this! What about my parents? They could be dead!"
Lars, who had been silently thoughtful throughout, now looked up with irritation, as though wondering how she could dare interrupt. "We'll deal with that once we're finished with this."
Asuka looked at him with undisguised disbelief. "Aren't you listening? They could be in trouble! I can't just sit here on my ass while God knows what happens to them-"
Lars slammed his palm onto the table, silencing her. He was angry. "We are considering the fate of the world here, Asuka, and that isn't an overestimation. Yoshimitsu and I have sacrificed more for your safety, and everyone's safety, than you can imagine. We aren't here for selfish reasons. I've lost men to this war already. Maybe your parents are dead… in that case they're just two more casualties-" He stopped, his own words seeming to surprise him. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."
Miguel spoke up before Asuka could reply. "I will go with you, Asuka. The League of Gentlemen don't need me here."
His speaking seemed to shock and comfort her at the same time. As he stood up to follow her she breathed deeply, and her shoulders sagged. They left; Yoshimitsu alone noted the silent "thanks" she mouthed to him. Then he leant his elbows on the table, addressing all of them.
"Here's the plan. We use Bruce Irvin's intel to get us into the research centre. Once inside we rob the place and then trash the place. Kazuya's new conflict in the city, ironically enough, should prevent them tracking us down afterward."
Lars raised a brow. "That's it?"
"That's it. Something wrong?"
Now it was Lars who leaned forward. "I'm sure you realise your plan leaves a vast amount to chance. We have no idea what stage of development Kazuya's stem cell tech is at. He could have only a few samples close to perfected, or they could already be in mass production for military use. There could be thousands of units of it on ice. And why should it all be in one centre- right here in Japan, no less?"
"Bruce assures me it's all here."
Lars nodded doubtfully. "True. But after speaking with Bruce today I have to agree with Miguel- Bruce Irvin doesn't seem like the most trustworthy of people."
"Even so… it's the only chance we've got."
"Hate to throw an Asuka," said Christie suddenly "but… I'm sorry. I'm not here to help with the war. That's not on my shoulders and I don't want it to be. I'm here for my grandfather."
She turned to Lars. "Eddy told me you could help- said you'd know where to find Dr. Bosconovitch. And I stand by that. I'm sorry… but this isn't my war. If you can't help me I'll have to go someplace else."
Yoshimitsu was about to speak but Lars interrupted. "Wait. Earlier… did you say Bosconovitch was kidnapped- from an MFE base in East Asia?"
Christie gave him a confused look. "That's right."
Lars was no longer listening to the conversation. His distant stare was back. Without meeting any of their gazes he stood up, took out his mobile, and left.
Ieyasu made a bemused gesture. "That was polite."
But Yoshimitsu showed no sign of recognition of the humour. He felt like Christie had sown a seed of doubt in him that would never be uprooted. For the first time he felt the weight of the odds against them, a reality so long put on hold. If even now no one would stand together against this threat… what chance did they have?
"Christie…" he said quietly, "can't you see that this war is everyone's business now? Can you even picture what it would be like with Kazuya as dictator? As God?"
Christie could only nod again. "I understand. And I know how frustrating it must be that, even now, on the brink of conquest, us hopeless little humans seem just as self-oriented as ever. But this isn't something I have a choice over. I made a promise to save my grandfather and I intend to keep it. Until I've done that… I can't give you any help at all."
Abruptly Lars reappeared in the doorway. The mobile was still in his hand.
"I've just made a few calls to my detachments in East Asia. When I met Miguel for the first time I had just captured a research facility, along with an 'old man' there. Guess what. He is Dr. Bosconovitch. I've had him under guard all this time."
--
For Bruce, rain outside the wet season was obscurely prophetic; but then he was superstitious to the core. That was the effect that a life like his had on a man. It was the effect of surviving a plane crash in the mountains; of living off the meat of those less lucky; of being saved by G Corporation from the middle of nowhere.
When a person had experienced enough coincidences, it was only natural to assume there were no coincidences at all.
It was on that account that, even though Kazuya had finally arrived (late, as was his right), one darting eye continued to watch the gathering storm clouds. The other eye was on his boss, climbing from the limousine, followed by two armed thugs.
"You're late," said Bruce. "I had to wait here expecting to be gunned down by the first of your cronies to see me. Discriminating friend from foe isn't their greatest talent."
Either Kazuya wasn't thinking of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of dead innocents, or he didn't care. "They know your appearance," he said coolly. "Let's walk."
They descended down an alley. This was one of the shadier areas of town- once. Now the graffiti-strewn walls and doorways, once lined with drugs and prostitutes, were as empty a place as the rest of the city. Indeed, their pas worthlessness had spared them the worst of the violence.
"I have infiltrated Lars' rebel Tekken force. He will work against us with Yoshimitsu and the Manji party- of that I'm almost certain."
"Any news on their plans?"
It took no effort of will at all to decide to lie. "None yet."
"What about their numbers?"
"No."
"Allies? I am sure there are contestants in the tournament who know what is happening."
"I'm afraid no."
They paused, right in the heart of the alleys. Here they were isolated enough that the ever-present gunfire was just distant, barely audible pops.
Kazuya paused, hands behind his back. The red eye flashed obliquely. A drop of rain, obviously the first of many, fell onto Bruce's cheek.
"That's it, then."
Bruce raised a brow. "It? What do you mean?"
"That's all. There's nothing more you can do."
As ever, it seemed, Bruce's innate paranoia was confirmed. As the rain began in earnest he noticed that Kazuya's bodyguards had moved to block the other exits from the alley. Instinctively he started to edge towards a door set into a recess on his left.
"Kazuya," he said slowly, "why did you bring us into these alleys?"
"To dispose of you," said Kazuya simply. "That is one of the advantages of holding the city. I can freely dispose of failures."
"I have infiltrated the group," he offered haplessly. Kazuya was advancing on him now, slowly, and he felt fear rising. "I am on the inside. You need me!"
"I don't need you," hissed Kazuya, "I am offended by the very prospect of needing such an insipid creature. You have done nothing but fail. You failed to bring Miguel to me. You failed to stop Yoshimitsu the night he raided the warehouse. And now you say you have nothing for me except the empty promise of later reward, should Lars finally trust you. You have failed, and today you lied as well."
Abruptly there was wet chipped paint scratching his back, and Bruce stopped dead. He struggled for words but fear had paralysed him like a cornered animal. Kazuya had taken off his jacket and handed it to the thugs. The rain was heavy now, highlighting his horrendous chest scars.
Kazuya flexed his massive frame and stepped to within striking distance. "I am going to kill you with my bare hands. Just as I have killed so many failures. I always preferred close combat. There is a connection, you know."
There was a smirk on his face that knew no remorse and no pity.
"A connection with your opponent. You can feel all the damage you inflict right through the hands- the bones grinding and breaking, the skin splitting against them. But then, I imagine you know that."
Bruce's mouth curled into an involuntary snarl, revealing the pointed teeth. "I'm not going to be killed by you!"
The fists came up. "Your only hope is to fight back. Connect."
"No!"
Spinning, Bruce slammed himself against the door with the weight of panic. It buckled- wood chips flew into the rain- then Bruce was gone fleeing.
Rushing through the tiny home, the Thai kickboxer sighted a window and leapt through it. Slipping and stumbling, he rushed down an alley, turning left, right, then left again, his momentum bouncing him off the walls in the driving rain.
"You cannot escape!"
Kazuya erupted from the rain and darkness like a demon, following in with a lightning left-right punch. Bruce staggered and blocked, but the right blow glanced his cheek. Kazuya's fist was like a lump of iron. Ignoring the pain the kickboxer struck back, leaping into a left knee strike followed by a high kick. Kazuya spun in the rain, blocking the kick and circling. Two more blows followed and Bruce wavered under their speed.
A feint! Bruce threw himself left just in time to avoid a ferocious downward kick from shoulder to thigh- Kazuya's heel impacted a dustbin just behind where he had been standing and crushed it like a piece of tin foil. Without thinking Bruce launched himself back into the fight, swinging his knees up in a flurry of moves. Kazuya blocked effortlessly- but wasn't quick enough for the low kick that swept him from his feet.
Then he was off again, without hesitation, sprinting down the narrowing alley. In the blinding rain all he could see now was the graffiti, offensively bright in the wet greyness, leering at him. He thought he heard Kazuya leap back to his feet and break into a sprint but he didn't dare look back. Turning into a side alley he leapt high- his fingertips just caught the gutter and his muscles strained with the effort of pulling him up. After what seemed like an eternity his feet touched the roof and he slid over the top into the street on the opposite side.
Quiet.
For a second he could only lie there, listening to his blood pumping, feeling the rain drench him. An animalistic blend of fear and hatred had been awakened in him and for a second he revelled in the feeling. When Kazuya had said he would kill him…
"You are faster than I gave you credit for." Kazuya emerged from the shadows. From the ground Bruce looked on him with the disbelief that prey gives predator.
"It would have been ironic if your first success had been in running away, but I'm afraid I can't allow it."
Bruce lay there, panting, glaring.
"Now get up and fight."
He didn't. With bestial speed he leapt onto his feet, feinted forwards then darted right. From his peripheral vision he saw Kazuya prepare to defend himself from the feint- then smirk as he dodged past him. A second terrace loomed and again he vaulted, catching the gutter as before and dragging himself over the roof. This time he dropped and didn't pause, but ran the few steps straight across the alley and jumped for the next gutter.
A ferocious sound made him pause. Behind him Kazuya roared as he crashed through a door in the alley, sending it flying front-over-back into the wall beside him. Desperately Bruce tried to claw his way up but Kazuya grabbed his leg and ripped him from the gutter, directly into a savage knee to the gut. Bruce gasped in pain, twisting from the blow; Kazuya grabbed his vest to pull him into a headbutt, but the fabric tore in his hands and dumped him against the wall.
Bruce sat against the wall, making no attempt to defend himself; in agony, yet glaring, teeth bared, unafraid. Water from the broken gutter gushed down on him, lacquering the pointed teeth and running off the angular face.
Kazuya, arms folded, watched him with an expression of something like interest.
"Get up and try and fight then."
The kickboxer's muscles tightened. With lightning speed he flew up into a roundhouse kick to the jaw; yet Kazuya, seemingly anticipating the move, stepped in right, batting the blow away with one forearm at the same time as the other connected with the weakest point of Bruce's hip. Bruce screamed- attempted an inept knee strike. Kazuya cupped his hand over the knee, absorbing the force, and at the same time low-kicked him straight into the nerve-centre of the thigh.
He crumbled back into the streaming water.
Four more times Bruce staggered up and threw himself at Kazuya, and every time Kazuya effortlessly put him back to ground with blows aimed to deliver maximum pain. During that time Bruce felt the animalistic surge he had first experienced begin to fade- on the final attempt, with Kazuya's elbow connecting with his temple, something snapped in him as the immediacy of his own death suddenly became clear. All the fight left him and he slumped back against the wall.
Kazuya must have sensed the change, because he stepped back. He could almost have been disappointed.
"Given up?"
"No more," Bruce coughed.
"Is that all you can manage? In honesty I had expected you to be stronger- to at least make me try…"
"No more."
"You are no fighter."
"Please… no more…"
The two thugs, from their exhaustion seeming to have only just caught up, appeared from a connecting street. Kazuya waved them still.
"Have mercy."
During the fighting the other strap of Bruce's vest had snapped, revealing his battered torso. Kazuya reached down and grabbed Bruce by the throat. This elicited a wave of desperate cries:
"Pleas have mercy on me! Please, Kazuya! Please don't!"
Before this display of weakness Kazuya felt himself repulsed; his anger showed despite himself.
"Stop begging, you filth! You can die with some level of dignity even if you didn't live with it!"
"Please don't kill me, Kazuya! I beg of you!"
This was too much for Kazuya to bear. His fist had been raised but he dropped it now, throwing Bruce back against the wall in utter revulsion.
For the first time now, Bruce saw Kazuya without his mask of emotionless. Behind it was a look of pure disgust.
"Pitiful." There was repulsion in Kazuya's voice, yet almost regret as well. "All so pitiful."
Then, to his thugs:
"Take this coward to one of the contested zones and give him a gun. He can fight the MFE with the other nobodies."
Endless relief and a bitter hatred surged into Bruce and embedded itself in his heart before blackness engulfed him
--
End of Chapter 12
Please review if you read it, even if it's just a few words to tell me whether you liked it or not. I'd especially like to know if you enjoyed the Kazuya/Bruce thing at the end. Also, is everyone still following? I'm aware the plot is in danger of becoming overcomplicated.
