A Touch of Red
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Friendship/Romance
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, course language, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft while RESIDENT EVIL is a property belonging to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.
Song: "Do It Now" and/or "The Tiger Warrior"
Chapter Eleven: Tiger's Fury
Konrad watched the footage of the fighters on screen as he sat in his office, his eyes studying their movements before pressing a button on his phone.
"Yes, Mr. Chairman?" ARIA's voice spoke through the speaker.
"Patch me through to Dr. Mathison of the R&D Department," he ordered.
"Yes, Mr. Chairman. Patching you through now."
Konrad waited as he heard the dial tone, the line ringing for several moments.
"Hello?" He heard a voice say from the other end.
"Dr. Mathison?"
"Speaking."
"Ah, good. It's Baron Von Sabrewulf."
"Oh! M-M-Mr. Chairman!" the voice stuttered in surprise. "It's good to hear from you, sir!"
"Likewise."
"H-how can I be of service to you?"
"Have you been recording the footage?"
"We have, sir. Doctors Fulton, Gore and I have been studying the footage very carefully, and we believe that we may be able to implement at least a couple of the fighters' moves, but it's not a lot, admittedly. We have, however, managed to get at least a couple frames of data from Mr. Garret, but we're still going to need more."
"Don't worry," Konrad said as he stared at the screen, his eyes locked on the KI logo and on the fighters, "you'll have plenty of material for reference. There are still plenty of fighters who haven't been featured yet."
Claire stared up at the holographic jumbotron, listening to the announcers as they were doing replays, the two of them breaking down the fight piece by piece, frame by frame, the fighters on screen moving in slow motion.
"So whaddya think, rookie?"
Turning to the speaker, Claire mustered up a smile as T.J. approached, trying to avoid looking at the slow-motion video of the boxer's fist slamming into his opponent's face, trying to avoid looking at blood-stained arena floor. From the corner of her eyes, the girl saw personnel cleaning up from the last round, the crew picking up bits of teeth from off the matt as the boxer wiped the sweat off himself with a towel.
"You were great!" She winked, giving him a thumbs up.
T.J. gave a thumbs up back, along with a smile. "Thanks, kid."
"I especially liked when you made your entrance and that song you were playing."
He nodded appreciatively. "Glad to hear."
Claire tilted her head at him. "Out of curiosity..."
"Yes?"
"...Do..." the girl said slowly, "...you always carry around a CD containing your own theme music?"
He flashed her a grin. "Of course! Any good superstar or superhero knows when to put on a show for the audience!" He then flexed his muscles. "And if there's one thing the Main Man loves, it's putting on a show!"
Billy then nudged her. "You know, I bet T.J. has a theme song for every occasion. TV shows, radio-"
"Uh huh. Uh huh," the boxer nodded along.
"The crapper," Piers interjected.
"Ew!" Claire made a face.
T.J. shrugged. "Sometimes."
"I don't need to know that!" the girl said disgustedly.
"When he's making a sandwich," Billy spoke up.
"The shower," Claire added.
Upon saying that out loud, she instantly regretted it as the girl received surprised looks from the three men, her eyes widening as a blush started to form on her face.
"Well well well!" T.J. grinned.
"Ah! I swear I didn't mean anything by that!" she waved her arms wildly amidst their laughter.
"Sure you didn't!" He said smugly, offering her a knowing wink.
"I DIDN'T!" She insisted, her face as red as a tomato's. "It's not like that!"
"I know, I know," the boxer chuckled, raising up his arms and flexing his pecs and impressive biceps. "You find it hard to resist me, especially the thought of my naked body. Listen, I understand what you're feeling."
"Oh for God's sakes," Claire groaned, putting a hand up to her face, trying to avoid looking at him, her blush deepening.
"It's only natural that you're getting all hot and bothered by yers truly, kiddo. Women everywhere find me irresistible!"
Billy shook his head. "Man, look at the ego on this one!"
T.J. sighed dramatically. "Well what can I say? I'm only a man!"
A smirk then appeared from one corner of his mouth.
"Actually I lied - I'm T.J. Combo, baby! I held the title for twenty years! Sure, I stumbled, but once I'm in the ring, ain't nobody touchin' this! And considering the competition so far..." He looked back to the ring and opened up a bottle of water that a guard passed to him, taking a large chug. Swallowing, the boxer then wiped his mouth, nodding thoughtfully to himself, "I like my chances in this tournament already!"
Looking back to Claire, he smiled and gave her a nod. "Take care of yourself, kid."
"Have a good one, T.J.," Claire waved pleasantly.
As the boxer departed, Piers scowled. "I have no idea why you are so nice to him of all people. Guy doesn't even deserve it."
Claire shrugged. "Well, even if he did do some bad things, it's not going to stop me from being pleasant to him. Sometimes you get further with people through acts of kindness. Besides, there's tons of unpleasantness in the world already, with just as many bullies and people taking pleasure in others' pain, so why join that lot? Between that choice and the underdog, I'd go for the latter any day of the week."
She watched as both Billy and Piers gave her surprised looks, drawing her attention. "What?"
Neither said anything at first. Finally, Piers shook his head incredulously.
"You're too nice for your own good, Claire," he said.
The girl grinned. "Well, I have my moments."
"Please stand by for the next match," she heard the announcers call over the speaker, the select theme delivering a loud thump.
Looking ahead to the jumbotron, Claire watched the screen, bobbing her head and humming the tune.
"Great music, huh?" Billy commented beside her.
"Yeah!" Claire nodded.
"I wonder who's going to be next?" Piers wondered.
"GUNN!"
Claire watched as a spotlight highlighted a rough-looking individual as he approached the stage. Tall and powerfully built, "Gunn" was a young man in his twenties with short white hair that was parted to the side, his features heavily reminding her of a thuggish version of Leon. Dressed in a red and black tank top that exposed his muscular arms, the man wore a pair of bandoliers around his chest, his legs and hips adorned in camo-colored pants and boots.
Claire glanced over at Billy.
"So, what do you think?" she asked curiously.
He studied the man for a moment, then gave a dismissive laugh.
"Heh. Poseur," he remarked. "What do ya think, Piers?"
Piers scoffed. "Wannabe tough guy at best. I'm a bit curious to know who-"
"PIERS NIVANS!"
Piers blinked, looking like a deer in the headlights as the spotlight fell on him, the soldier looking around in confusion. "Huh?"
"They called you, man! You're up!"
He blinked, completely caught off-guard.
"I am?" Piers said with surprise and uncertainty.
"Yeah! You're up! GET UP THERE!"
"Oh shit!" Piers' eyes widened. Rolling his shoulder, he straightened his hair, then stretched, exhaling. "Well...here goes nothing."
Claire clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Piers! We'll be rooting for you!"
Piers smiled. "Thanks, Claire."
Claire watched as he looked back to the arena, the young man stepping forward and climbing up the stairs.
Piers' fingers anxiously and restlessly flexed and moved as he got into the ring, the cage sealing behind him. Ahead of him, his opponent, "Gunn", had his back turned to him, rolling his shoulders smugly.
"Tell me, friend," he said confidently, "what do you think the odds are of you winning?"
Piers scoffed. "Better than yours."
Gunn smirked as he turned to face him, cracking his neck.
"Ha. Ya got balls, I give you that, but ya don't have a chance, dude," he said smugly. "I'm military."
Nivans raised a brow, meeting his challenging stare with one of his own. "Is that right? So am I."
He saw the smirk falter. "Huh? You are?"
"Yeah. I'm from West Point, top of my class. What branch are you?"
Gunn puffed out his chest. "I'm United States Army! Special Forces!"
Piers grinned. "Really? So am I." He leaned forward and got into a stance. "This should be an interesting fight then."
Gunn got into a stance of his own. "Let's get down to business."
"READY!"
Claire watched as Gunn circled around Piers like a shark. Piers leaned forward and got into a stance, raising up his fists. The two men slowly circled on another, both men eying one another, looking for an opening, a weakness in the other man's stance.
The next thing Claire knew, Gunn lashed out with a punch, the blow parried by Piers as he attempted to strike back with a punch of his own, only for that attack to be parried by his opponent. Both men seemed evenly matched, their footwork quick and precise as they struck, dodged and weaved, moving distinctively like a pair of lethal professionals. They punched, kicked, parried, and countered, receiving blows in between, but neither one was willing to surrender.
"Look at him go!" Claire marveled.
Beside her, Billy nodded in agreement and approval. "Yeah, Piers is a good fighter. This chump has no idea what he's in for."
The two of them watched as the two military men grappled, engaging in CQC, or close quarters combat, before pushing each other back.
Claire watched as Piers and Gunn wiped their mouths, the two of them panting.
Finally, the two of them yelled and charged.
...That was, until a...very...unexpected and distinctive sound suddenly echoed throughout the church, the sound amplified by microphones.
BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
The two fighters froze in place, the sound ringing loudly. Piers stood still, blinking at his opponent as Gunn gave a wide-eyed look of horror and mortification.
"...Did...Did you just-"
He then heard a loud gurgling coming from the man's stomach, his opponent hunching forward with a grimace as he held his midsection.
"Oh Jesus!" Gunn groaned as he massaged his stomach. "Oh God! Oh GOD! Fucking burritos! Oh no! No! No! NO! No no no no no no-"
Piers gave a look of disgust as the man suddenly let one rip, the sound longer, louder than before, a sound like a very loud, and very wet-sounding, trumpet going off.
"Aw gross!" Piers coughed, pulling up his collar to cover his nose as he smelled foul odor.
"Oh Christ!" Gunn stumbled toward the gate door, slamming his fist frantically against it as he clutched his stomach with his other arm. "Hey guard! Open the door, I need to use bathroooohooooooom!" His eyes flew open in alarm as he straightened himself, his stomach churning as he grabbed hold of his rear, the man hollering at the top of his lungs, "OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"
Claire was trying to stifle back her laugh as she watched Gunn doing a funny little dance on stage. Billy didn't bother holding back, nor had the rest of the fighters. Even some of the crew and guards were howling uproariously, with a couple of them doubled over and holding their midsections. Laughter echoed throughout the arena as everyone watched the man frantically pace himself around, moving about in distress and shouting at someone to open the door.
Finally, Claire lost it. She hadn't meant to laugh at the poor man given his evident distress and the unfortunate circumstances that he was clearly in, but she couldn't help finding the image of a buff military guy holding his rear and waddling about in the spotlight like a penguin an absolutely ridiculous sight to behold.
After a couple exchanges with the guards and referee, with the fighter nodding frantically, the arena doors opened, letting the poor man out as he raced, running from the knees down while he tightly held his legs together. Gunn wobbled and nearly stumbled down the stairs, rushing as fast as he could to get to the nearest available washroom as he was guided along by a guard.
The only people didn't laugh were Thunder and Jago, both of whom remained quiet, neither of them showing any indication that they found any sort of amusement, along with the the woman in green, who had a sort of contemptuous and disgusted look on her face.
"Pathetic," Claire heard the woman said dismissively before turning away.
Looking over to the arena, the former saw Piers standing there with a sheepish expression on his face, the soldier shrugging at her as the announcer declared him the winner.
Meanwhile, back in his office, Sabrewulf face-palmed, shaking his head slowly.
"Of course something like this would happen," he sighed disbelievingly.
Claire smiled as Piers came to join her and Billy, the holographic jumbotron playing some new commercial by Ultratech.
"...Well, that was an interesting fight," she quipped.
Billy laughed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "You just know that is going to be Number One on YouTube."
"Honestly, I can't help feeling a little bad for the guy," Piers said as he scratched the back of his head. "I didn't think it would end this way for him."
His friend shrugged. "Meh, whatever, dude. Better him than you. If it had been the other way around, I don't think he would have cared."
The soldier considered his words, then gave a half shrug back.
"Probably," he conceded.
"Well," Claire began, "at least you are able to continue. It would have been a little sad to see you go."
Piers raised a brow. "You do realize that I still could be your opponent in the future, right?"
She grinned cheekily. "I know. I can still kick your ass, though."
Billy and Piers exchanged looks with each other, then glanced back to Claire. Finally, the three of them lightly laughed.
"You've got spunk, kid," Piers remarked before looking over to his friend. "I like her."
Claire winked, beaming brightly at the soldier as she looked back to the arena.
"I wonder who's going to be up next," she said, squinting at the screen.
"My congratulations on your victory." Turning to the unexpected voice along with the others, Claire smiled as she saw Jago approach. "Even though the way it had ended had been abrupt, from what I saw of the fight, you are a skilled opponent."
Piers nodded.
"Uh, thanks," he said uneasily, taking his appearance in. "Piers Nivans. This is my friend Billy Coen."
Jago pressed his hands together and a slight bow to them both, then nodded in Claire's direction. "Ms. Redfield."
Claire smiled, nodding back.
"Hi Jago," she greeted. "So what brings you up here?"
"I was just getting ready," the monk answered. "According to the schedule, I am up next."
"Oh really?" Claire said in surprise. "You are?"
"As far as I am aware."
"Do you know who your opponent is?"
"Yes," he answered, looking around at the other fighters, "someone calling himself Black-"
He paused midsentence, his eyes locked on someone to the right. Looking to where he stared, Claire and the others found themselves looking upon a man that was a foot taller and a good fifty pounds heavier than Jago, seemingly older. Like Jago, he was Asian and wore a cloth mask and a headband, but unlike the Tibetan monk, who wore Buddhist attire, the man was wearing more urban clothing. A torn, dirty black leather motorcycle jacket with missing sleeves and a flared up collar hung over his lean frame, exposing his strong, muscular arms. Underneath, he wore a red shirt and black, torn jeans with combat boots, the man cracking his fingerless gloved hands in readiness. Taken as a whole, he looked more like an urban ninja.
Claire and the others watched as the man approached, his eyes locked on Jago.
"Hello...Jago," the man greeted, putting emphasis on his opponent's name.
Jago said nothing, his expression hard to read.
"What's the matter? I would have thought you of all people would have been happy to see me," the man said sarcastically.
The monk narrowed his eyes.
"I remember you," Jago said slowly. "You were excommunicated from my Order years ago."
"No thanks to you!" The masked man retorted, his words dripping acidly, his hand tightening into a fist.
The monk exhaled, shaking his head slowly. "Let's not do this here."
"Oh, I think now is the perfect time to talk, monk!" the man snarled, the last part emphasized almost mockingly before pointing an accusatory finger at him,. "You got me kicked out of the Order!"
"You were abusing your authority," Jago replied in an even voice. "You were intimidating villagers into giving you money. You showed disrespect to the High Abbot and his decrees. You were stealing from the poor and elderly. You picked on the weak and vulnerable. Even more, you were caught having intimate relations with another man's wife. Was it any surprise that you were let go? It was your actions that got you into trouble."
"Don't be so smug, you arrogant little shit!" The man snapped. "That old fart favored you since we were children! You were his "golden" child, but me? I was the fuck-up! I did everything that he asked, but I was never good enough for him!"
"You did your tasks well," the monk conceded, "but you have never applied yourself. Not fully. That was one of your many problems - you have no self-restraint. You lack conviction. You always had to push it, Bankei."
"Don't call me that!" "Bankei" hissed in resentment. "The name's Black Tiger."
Claire watched as the two masked men stared each other down. While "Black Tiger" stared hard at his opponent, giving him a dark, angry look, Jago, in contrast was cool and aloof, indifferent to the man's attempt at intimidation.
"Why are you here?" The latter asked, folding his arms.
Closing his eyes, his opponent took in a deep breath, then exhaled, reopening them slowly with a smirk forming beneath his mask as he placed his hands on his hips.
"Isn't it obvious? To win the prize money," he stated. "Once that heap of cash is mine, I intend on starting my own martial arts club." He sneered down at the monk. "Funny that you of all people would turn up here. What is your reason for being here?"
Before Jago could answer, Black Tiger waved him off, "You know what - I don't care." Black Tiger's gaze hardened along with his fists. "I'm glad that you came, for now I can beat your scrawny little ass into the dirt and get payback for you did to me."
As the man departed, Jago closed his eyes and shook his head sadly.
"Oh Bankei," he said regretfully, "what has become of you?"
Turning to Claire and the others, the Tibetan monk apologetically and politely nodded. "I'm sorry that you had to bear witness to that."
"It's no trouble," Claire assured. "So you know that guy?"
"I did, for a time," Jago answered as he looked in the direction where the man went. "His name is Bankei. He used to be part of the Order, but his childhood was...troubled. I cannot elaborate on the details out of respect for him, but it pains me to see him like this."
"You used to be friends?"
The monk was quiet, considering his words carefully. Closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly from side to side, Jago exhaled through his veil. "...I... like to think we had been."
Glancing over to the jumbotron, he squinted up at the time.
"I'm afraid I have to get going to the armory," Jago said as he adjusted his red zhen robe. "It will be my turn next."
"Good luck, Jago!" Claire waved to the monk as he left, watching as he approached a group of security guards and said something to them. The guards nodded, then started to escort him out to the armory.
A few minutes later, Jago and Black Tiger returned, each man escorted separately by guards from different ends of the arena.
"AND NOW FOR THE NEXT MATCH!" The announcer spoke into the microphone.
Looking back to the arena, Claire and the others stared up at the holographic jumbotron as it flickered.
"BLACK TIGER!"
"JAGO!"
"FIGHT ON!"
Claire watched in anticipation as the two masked fighters entered the arena one by one. Looking to Black Tiger, she suddenly noticed the two katanas strapped to his back, watching as he pulled one of the swords out from his scabbard, spinning it confidently around with one hand as he circled around Jago, who only held what looked to be his walking stick.
The two men exchanged words, although Claire couldn't tell what was being said due to the thumping loud music and the announcers' commentary.
Black Tiger said something that made those standing closer to the arena to burst into laughter, causing to Jago to turn away.
'What is he doing?' she wondered.
Stepping into the caged-off arena, Jago regarded his former friend as the man playfully spun his sword around.
"Ooh, now would you look at this," Black Tiger commented, his eyes focused on his sword. "Isn't this a thing of beauty?"
Jago gave an acknowledging nod. "It is a well-made sword."
Lifting his eyes up from his weapon, his opponent met his stare, watching as he glanced to the weapon Jago had strapped to his back.
"A ke-tri?" Black Tiger stated rhetorically.
"A ke-tri vajra."
"Ahh," Black Tiger nodded. "So you have done well. You must have truly excelled if the Abbot was able to allow you to wield that particular weapon." He cocked his head to the side. "What rank are you now?"
"Gelong."
"Gelong?" He repeated. "For someone so young? You're what, twenty-two? Twenty-three?"
"Yes."
"My my my! You truly are a prodigy, aren't you?"
Jago heard the venom and detestation in his words, the man's hands tightening so hard on the handle of his katana that he could hear the friction in his glove. He then watched as Black Tiger slipped his sword back into its scabbard.
"Tell me, monk," the latter spoke enviously, "did the Abbot teach you the so-called secret "Endokuken" technique?"
Jago hardened his stare.
"No?" Black Tiger gave a partial smirk underneath his cloth mask. "How about the Taak Krodha 'Tiger Fury' uppercut technique?"
The monk was still, his features darkening.
"He didn't, didn't he?" Black Tiger crossed his arms, giving Jago a smug look, letting out a loud dismissive bark. "I knew the Abbot was a fraud. I had him pegged for years. Fuckin' phony." He shrugged. "Figures."
Jago closed his eyes and shook his head despondently.
"I pity your ignorance," the monk said softly. "If only you had been more committed and respectful, you could have-"
"Yeah, well, I don't give a shit. I am NOT going back to that shithole. The only person in charge of me is me. That faggot can go fuck himself for all I care. Only thing he was ever good for was teaching me how to fight."
"He also gave you a home when your own parents wanted nothing to do with you," Jago said pointedly, causing his opponent to stiffen. "He had always treated you with kindness. He didn't beat you with a belt or break a chair over you like your father had. He didn't lock you up like an animal. He treated you like a human being. And this is how you show your gratitude?"
"Haw!" he sneered at the monk. "'Gratitude'? For being forced into celibacy and being made a fool of? To be looked down upon by you and those other bald pricks every day?! Fuck. That!"
Jago shook his head. "Your anger is clouding your judgment." His eyes softened beneath his veil as he looked imploringly into the eyes of his old friend. "Bankei...please. Don't do this."
He watched as Black Tiger hesitated. For a moment, it almost seemed as if he was struggling internally. For a moment, Jago caught a flicker of his old friend, the playful, boisterous and crude though somewhat good-natured child that he used to know all those years ago.
That flicker disappeared as Black Tiger closed his eyes and shook his head, giving a dismissive scoff.
"You know," his opponent remarked loudly, "this is gonna be the first time I've ever kicked a man's ass while he's wearing a skirt."
Upon making that remark, several personnel and fighters close to the cage laughed out loud.
"Maybe after I beat your ass into pulp," the former monk continued with a sneer, "I'll disclose some of the Order's secrets, maybe make some good money from their fighting techniques."
As Black Tiger's words left his mouth, Jago felt the air become still. Narrowing his eyes into a glare, the Tibetan monk dipped his head low and closed his eyes.
"So be it, then."
Claire watched as Jago turned away from his opponent, the monk slowly unraveling the outer red zhen robe that he wore, carefully folding it up and placing it on one part of the cage bars. The girl then watched as Jago took a pair of long ropes and started coiling them around his legs, tying and folding the inner sections of his skirt. Once he was finished, the monk straightened himself up and turned to face Black Tiger.
Seeing him now, Claire couldn't help thinking how much more...ninjalike he was in his appearance. With his strong and muscular though lean frame, he looked more like a force to be reckoned with, his eyes possessing a firm resolve, the ornate golden tiger teeth of his headband and veil gleaming brightly underneath the overhead lights.
Letting out a deep-chested growl, Jago pressed his fist into his palm and bowed before finally getting into a stance, his hands raised, exposing his open palms, his fingers curled like claws.
Cracking his neck and hands, Black Tiger got into a similar stance, raising his own in a similar manner to meet Jago's.
"READY!"
The match started slow, with the two fighters slowly stepping forward. Shifting their stance and positions, they crept closer and closer toward each other, their open handed claws edging closer. Then, with a speed that startled Claire, they lashed out, their movements quick and graceful as they struck, blocked and countered.
"Wow!" Claire gasped as she watched the whole thing.
She had seen kung fu used in movies, but to see it in person...words failed to describe how beautiful it actually was. Every bit of movement - every punch, kick, palm strike or sweep, no matter how frenzied - was so precise, so smooth. Every twist and turn on a given heel. Watching Jago and Black Tiger fight, it was very different from T.J.'s and Piers' matches; there was much more of a gracefulness to their movements, making the whole event seem like some sort of performance or dance.
But it was the sheer speed that had really caught Claire by surprise - she had never seen anyone move so fast, especially during a fight!
Some of their movements were so quick that there were a lot of times where Claire had to do a doubletake, her mind unable to comprehend what had happened. Just when part of her was trying to register what had happened, her mind still trying to break down and process the information that she had seen for a given strike or block, both fighters would then do something else that would make Claire's mind reel, making the girl feel overwhelmed.
"Jesus Christ, look at them go!" Billy gaped beside her.
Claire could only nod in astonishment, her eyes squarely fixed on the arena.
It was nothing short of spectacular. Whereas T.J.'s fight was brutal and hard-hitting in comparison, this fight had so much more dynamism and kinesis. It was vicious in its own way, with clothes being torn and parts of their skin being slashed and bloodied. In a way, Claire couldn't help but be reminded of two caged tigers fighting, but more elegant to watch.
There were differences in both fighters' respective styles, abilities and movements, though - in the case of Black Tiger, his style seemed to have shades of Kung Fu, but generally speaking it was more based on Tae Kwon Do. Jago's, on the other hand, was strictly Tiger-based Kung Fu. Whereas Black Tiger's was competent, it seemed much more aggressive and frenzied, much less refined, in Claire's opinion, the lines in his form less clean, somewhat sloppy.
Jago's, in contrast, was much more controlled, acrobatic, disciplined and precise. Every line in his strikes and guards were so calculated, measured and fluid that she had to admit to being impressed by the Tibetan monk.
Claire watched as Jago reared back as Black Tiger lashed out with an axe kick, the blow nearly taking off his head before lashing out with a palm strike to the chest that caused his opponent to stumble slightly before regaining his balance. As the latter let out an angry roar, the two men charged each other and struck, the blows causing both men to skid backwards on their feet to opposite ends of the arena, their gazes locked on one another.
Jago watched as Black Tiger wiped the sweat off from his forehead.
"Had enough, Jago?" Black Tiger panted, asking with a smirk.
The monk said nothing as he stood still, his eyes focused on his opponent.
"You haven't even broken a sweat," his opponent commented. "Impressive."
Jago remained quiet for a time. Finally, he spoke.
"...Do you yield?"
"What was that?"
"Do you yield?"
Black Tiger let out a harsh laugh.
"You'd love that, wouldn't you? Like hell I will."
Drawing out a sword, the former monk spun the blade around in his hand, rolling his wrist backward and forward.
"You've gotten better with hand to hand." Black Tiger narrowed his eyes at Jago. "Let's see how good you are with a sword!"
Letting out a roar, he charged toward the monk, raising his blade high.
Pulling out his ke-tri vajra from his sheathe, Jago quickly parried the coming attacks, metal clanging loudly against metal as he swiftly blocked high, medium, and low strikes.
Breaking away from him briefly, Black Tiger smugly nodded.
"Not bad," he commented. "Not bad at all!" A smirk formed underneath his mask as he drew out a second sword. "Let's see how you fare against two swords!"
As Black Tiger charged and swung his weapons, Jago swiftly deflected the coming strikes, his ke-tri vajra clanging against the former monk's katanas.
"Is that all you got, Jago?!" The former sneered as he wildly swung and slashed.
Jago maintained his composure as he blocked the coming attacks, sidestepping as his former friend attempted to stab him, causing his opponent to stumble and lose his balance.
Recovering, Black Tiger turned around to face him with a heated glare.
"Come on, Jago! Fight me!" he yelled.
The former monk rushed toward him with his blades raised along his sides. Before he was able to lash out, he let out deep gasp as Jago struck his solar plexus with the butt of his own ke-tri vajra, driving all the air out from his lungs, causing him to sputter, double over and clutch his chest.
"You fight well," Jago spoke, "but you lack discipline. You also suffer from another major obstacle that prevents you from truly succeeding."
"And what's that?!" Black Tiger snorted.
"You are consumed with rage." His eyes softened, his sword lowered. "Bankei, please. Yield. Yield before this escalates even further. I do not wish to hurt you. I am not your enemy. It is your anger and hatred that are the true enemies, not me. Let me help you."
The former monk stood still, his face dark and unreadable. Raising up his eyes, Black Tiger's nostrils flared underneath his mask, his face turning an angry deep shade of red.
"NEVER!"
Claire watched as Black Tiger let out a furious roar as he viciously threw both his katanas at Jago, the monk deflecting them harmlessly from the air.
Staring at him, the former monk reached behind his back and started to throw various knives and swords in an unrelenting and deadly whirlwind of blades. Jago was deflecting as many as he could, but some of them were cutting into his clothes.
"Jesus Christ," Billy said beside her, "the guy's insane!"
Claire glanced around nervously. "Where the hell is the referee?! We need to stop this before it gets out of hand - he's going to kill him in there!" She raised her hands to her mouth as she she yelled, "SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING! STOP THE FIGHT!"
Before anyone could react, Jago suddenly swiveled on his heel and leapt forward, seemingly gliding straight through the swords and blades themselves as they were thrown, catching everyone by surprise and completely defying logic, his legs stretched fully out in a manner reminiscent to Jean-Claude Van Damme's signature 360 Crescent Kicks.
"What?!"
As the kick connected with Black Tiger's face, causing him to stagger, Jago went into a Crane-styled stance before launching himself again off the floor, striking Black Tiger repeatedly in the chest before followed it up with a slew of double roundhouses, his movements growing faster and faster with each kick.
Finally, as Jago twisted on his heel, he suddenly dipped low.
"ENNNNNDOOOKUUKEEEEEENNNN!" Jago yelled as he leapt up with a spinning jumping uppercut, the blow catching Black Tiger in the stomach, striking him with such force that it tore through both his shirt and jacket before rising upward to slam straight into the man's jaw.
Claire cringed as she heard the unmistakable crunch of bone and teeth shattering as the man was lifted straight up from the floor.
As Jago spun up in the air with his fist raised, Black Tiger's body limply rose up with him before the man crashed down to the floor in a broken and bloodied heap.
Claire stared in awed silence along with the rest of the fighters as the Tibetan monk twisted himself around, gracefully and quietly landing on his feet.
Finally, Jago turned to face his fallen opponent and placed a fist into his palm, politely and respectfully bowing his head.
"WINNER!"
As the announcer snarled over the speakers, Claire and the others started cheering and whooping loudly.
"WHOO!" She yelled with her fists raised, clapping loudly and wildly. "GO JAGO!"
Jago stared down at the broken form of Black Tiger as the latter lay on the floor, his chest rising and falling slowly.
"...NGNG...Dat was it, wasn't it?" Black Tiger spoke as he moved his cloth mask aside, spitting blood and teeth onto the floor, "Da Tiga's Fuwy technique?"
Jago nodded quietly.
"You...also...mastawed da Wind Kick as wewl."
The Tibetan monk dipped his head low.
Black Tiger coughed. "I bet...I bet you're feelin' all pwoud of yourself wight now."
"You know that I take no pleasure in this, Bankei," he said quietly.
"Sure you don't," the former monk said dismissively, wiping his eyes and mouth.
"I'm sorry that things had to end this way."
"Spare me your pity!" His opponent spat, glaring up at him. "I want nothing from you."
Jago sighed. "You and your foolish pride. Does it hurt?"
When Bankei refused to answer, the monk approached, kneeling beside him. Placing a hand on his fallen brethren's shoulder, Jago raised a hand and closed his eyes.
As medical personnel made their way over to the arena, Claire watched as the Tibetan monk chanted something quietly. For a brief moment, she saw Jago's black tattoo flicker, shimmering a bright gold.
Claire blinked.
The hell?
"Did you guys see that?" She said, gesturing to the arena.
"See what?" Piers asked.
"That!" Claire pointed, "His tattoo! It's-" Cutting herself off, Claire stopped upon seeing that the tattoo no longer glowed.
"Uhhh...my mistake, I guess. Must have been a trick of the light or something."
Claire saw both Piers and Billy give her puzzled looks, the two of them exchanging questioning glances with each other.
Looking back to the arena, the girl watched as medical personnel entered the cage and encircled Black Tiger's form, watching as Jago removed the ropes, letting his skirt fall back down. Straightening himself back up, he then talked with a couple of personnel, the monk shaking his head in polite refusal, waving off offers of his getting medical attention as he quietly stepped away from the arena with his red zhen robe in hand, moving in Claire's direction.
As the monk moved closer, Claire smiled.
"Hey Jago!" She waved. "That was an amazing fight!"
"Thank you," Jago said quietly as he adjusted his outer zhen robe, his voice low.
Letting her smile drop, Claire blinked in surprise as the monk sadly looked back to his opponent, watching as medical personnel carried Black Tiger off on a stretcher.
"Man, that was one hell of a fight!" Billy nodded in approval. "Congratulations on your victory!"
Turning to face him, Jago looked back with drooping sad eyes, his shoulders sagging.
"I have won this match," the Tibetan monk nodded, "but it was no victory."
Claire blinked. "What makes you say that?"
"The match should have ended differently. Instead, it has resulted in this outcome." Jago then shook his head in a slow and despondent matter. "It was wrong for me to have hurt him so badly, and with a technique I had no right to use on him."
Piers stared incredulously at him. "The guy was trying to kill you!"
"Yes, but now he is in a worse state because of me." Closing his eyes, the monk sighed. "If only Bankei's vision hadn't been so clouded by his anger and hatred."
Piers raised a brow at him, folding his arms. "You do realize this is a fighting tournament, right?"
"I do."
"Then you should know that someone is always going to get hurt regardless."
Jago said nothing, staring at the still form of Black Tiger as he was hauled out on a stretcher. As the latter passed by, the former monk gave Jago a strange, almost mystified look of awe, something that really struck Claire as weird before he finally closed his eyes, the medical personnel carrying him out from the building.
"I wouldn't feel too bad if I were you," Billy shrugged. "You should honestly consider yourself lucky that it was him that ended up getting hurt rather than you, ninja dude. Hell, it's probably lucky that he had faced off against you, 'cause there's no telling what would have happened if he had fought somebody else."
Jago clicked his tongue, considering his words.
"Hm," he hummed as he looked back to the bloody floor of the cage. "Perhaps there is some slight truth in what you say. I only hope that he recovers and that he sees this as a learning experience, maybe use it to help himself find a better path and become a better person as a result. I sincerely hope that the next time we meet it is as friends."
Claire looked at curiously. "Even after what he did, you would want him as a friend regardless?"
A small, warm and kind smile formed underneath his veil. "Of course. If such a thing were to happen, then I would truly consider this battle a victory. 'Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.' Those are the words of the Dalai Lama, and I believe wholeheartedly in them."
His smile fell. "But, things being as they are, I feel no comfort over what happened. I can only pray."
Billy shrugged again. "All anyone can do, ninja dude."
Turning his attention back to Claire and the others, he put his palms together and politely bowed. "I wish you well in the coming days. Good luck with your battles."
"Take care, Jago!" Claire waved, watching as the Tibetan monk departed.
"Man, what a strange guy," Billy said as he scratched the back of his head.
"He is," Claire agreed, watching Jago with a smile, "but he's a nice one."
Once he had finished returning his sword back to the armory, Jago stepped outside and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he enjoyed the fresh air. Exhaling, he dipped his head low, then shook his head despondently.
What have I done?
Konrad stared at the monitor as he watched a replay of the fight.
"Very impressive," he nodded in approval.
He kept watching the Tibetan monk on screen as he did that magnificent finisher. He ignored the audio commentary, watching as the man in blue said something to his injured opponent before kneeling down beside him.
Rearing his head back, Konrad blinked several times, then massaged his eyes and leaned closer toward the screen, squinting with a frown. It was so quick and fleeting that, if it hadn't been for the fact that he just so happened to glance at the exact right time, he otherwise wouldn't have noticed.
"What the hell?"
Was someone playing around with the camera lighting?
Before he could investigate further, Konrad was startled by the phone beside him as it rang. Picking it up, he raised to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Chairman? It's Dr. Mathison from the R&D Department." Came the response from the other end of the line.
"Ah, Doctor! I was just expecting your call. Were you able to obtain any useful data?" he said into the receiver.
"There wasn't a lot of footage, unfortunately, especially with the second fight. The last two fighters especially were far too fast for the cameras to pick up."
Konrad growled. "Damn."
"But," Mathison continued, "we do have good news - we were able to acquire some additional combat data from that last match, notably that snap kick from that one fighter and the jumping uppercut from the other."
The aristocrat perked up. "Is that right?"
"Yes, Mr. Chairman. We're in the midst of analyzing the data, but so far, I think we may be able to implement it into Project Fulgore."
"Excellent. Let me know when you have finished. I'll see to it that you are given extra material to work with from the other fights."
"Yes, Mr. Chairman. Thank you."
"Auf Wiedersehn."
Hanging up the phone, Konrad allowed a small smile to form beneath his scarf.
Well, at least something was going right for once.
Machinery whirred, squeaked and bellowed noisily while CPUs hummed a dull low tune, the overhead fans and ventilation systems rumbling as researchers in safety suits and masks busily checked the monitors and equipment.
A figure lay still in the middle of a well-lit operating theater, beneath the hanging overhead lights and crisscrossing catwalks of the R&D Department, its exposed mechanical limbs strapped to a table and outstretched in a T pose, its form concealed by a long white canvas.
"Running diagnostic tests in three...two...one," a researcher counted down before typing into a nearby monitor.
Mechanical hands tightened into fists as red lenses flickered on, the lights glowing menacingly through the white fabric.
Author Notes: And that concludes this chapter! So, for those of you wondering, "Gunn" was a KI character that had been designed by the original artist Kev Bayliss but was dropped before being fully implemented into the game itself. The character of "Black Tiger" is somewhat an original creation, but his design is meant to be a sort of callback and update of Jago's classic black ninja look from the 90s, albeit with some more urban features added to his aesthetic. Hope you enjoyed this everyone. :)