Baek looked down to the small city below them. They were still high up enough that thin wisps of clouds could still he seen. He'd never been outside of South Korea before, least of all to America. Though the circumstances of him going there were anything but pleasurable, he couldn't help but be a little excited. He looked at his companions sitting to his left. They were both reading magazines, keeping to them selves. They never really talked to him the whole trip; not even to each other really. The only time they said anything to him was to tell him what they had to do once they got to America. They seemed nonchalant about the prospect of traveling here, Baek thought, it must be one of the benefits of working with a rich organization like the Mishima Zaibatsu; you get to travel a lot.
After they landed in the airport, they met up with two other men. They were from the American branch of the Mishima Conglomerate. All four of them were wearing business suits, looking very professional. Baek felt a little out of place wearing a brown leather vest and a pair of faded blue jeans. A large white van was waiting for them outside. The driver told Baek to get in the front seat with him, while the other four went inside through the back. They rode for a little over half an hour to the next city. It was a smaller city, Baek noted, less dense than the first one. They finally arrived at a small dojo.
"This is it." The driver said to him. "All the surrounding buildings have already sold their property to Mr. Mishima." He explained, pointing to the other buildings in the area. "This Law punk's being a pain in the ass; it's up to you to take care of that."
Beak nodded and then proceeded to step outside. His two earlier companions also went out and followed him. As they got to the door, they could hear the shouts of the students practicing inside. Baek took a deep breath before entering and hardened his resolve, if I'm going to do this, I better do this right. He leaned back to the wall just inside the door and looked at the students there. They ranged from white belts to colored belts to first dan black belts, but he didn't see Law anywhere.
One of the student instructors approached them. He was a black belt and spoke in a tone too forced to be sincerely polite. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Baek scowled at him. "Yes, I'd like to challenge the head instructor of this dojo."
The young man was slightly taken back, not expecting that response at all. His face grew a little more serious. "I'm afraid Master Law isn't here at this time."
"And when will Marshall Law be back?" Baek asked, trying hard to make his voice sound harsh and cold.
"I can't say, his work schedule's very hectic." The student answered, whose face was now growing more hateful towards Baek.
"Can't say, or won't?" Baek challenged loudly, making sure all the other students heard him as well. "Tell your 'master' when he arrives, that he is a coward and that his 'Marshall' art is nothing but a joke."
By now, the young man in front of him could no longer contain his anger and shouted back. "Is that what you think? Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and fight me asshole?"
Baek smiled, amused. "What's your name boy?"
"Yaz" The student answered through clenched teeth.
"Well Yaz, from what I can see, you're not even worth my time. So be a good little bitch and relay my message to Law instead."
Without a word, Yaz struck at Baek's face with a hard punch. Baek was unprepared for it and got hit, but he did anticipate the kick the young student was about to do and blocked it. His temper flared from being hit and started retaliating with his own barrage of attacks. His two companions had also provoked the other students and soon an all out brawl erupted through out the small dojo. The three other Mishima employees came in bringing canisters of gasoline. Baek and the two men had handled the less than skilled students very easily, with Baek taking out the more advanced fighters including Yaz.
As the five men poured gasoline all over the dojo, the students started running for their lives. Those who couldn't either limped or were helped out by the other students. Outside, Baek spotted the injured Yaz lying on the ground. Baek stood over the injured young student. "Tell Law that Baek has called him out; and if he has any balls at all, he'll come to the second Iron Fist tournament." Baek walk towards his companions in the van as the flames consumed the dojo building behind him.
After they landed in the airport, they met up with two other men. They were from the American branch of the Mishima Conglomerate. All four of them were wearing business suits, looking very professional. Baek felt a little out of place wearing a brown leather vest and a pair of faded blue jeans. A large white van was waiting for them outside. The driver told Baek to get in the front seat with him, while the other four went inside through the back. They rode for a little over half an hour to the next city. It was a smaller city, Baek noted, less dense than the first one. They finally arrived at a small dojo.
"This is it." The driver said to him. "All the surrounding buildings have already sold their property to Mr. Mishima." He explained, pointing to the other buildings in the area. "This Law punk's being a pain in the ass; it's up to you to take care of that."
Beak nodded and then proceeded to step outside. His two earlier companions also went out and followed him. As they got to the door, they could hear the shouts of the students practicing inside. Baek took a deep breath before entering and hardened his resolve, if I'm going to do this, I better do this right. He leaned back to the wall just inside the door and looked at the students there. They ranged from white belts to colored belts to first dan black belts, but he didn't see Law anywhere.
One of the student instructors approached them. He was a black belt and spoke in a tone too forced to be sincerely polite. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Baek scowled at him. "Yes, I'd like to challenge the head instructor of this dojo."
The young man was slightly taken back, not expecting that response at all. His face grew a little more serious. "I'm afraid Master Law isn't here at this time."
"And when will Marshall Law be back?" Baek asked, trying hard to make his voice sound harsh and cold.
"I can't say, his work schedule's very hectic." The student answered, whose face was now growing more hateful towards Baek.
"Can't say, or won't?" Baek challenged loudly, making sure all the other students heard him as well. "Tell your 'master' when he arrives, that he is a coward and that his 'Marshall' art is nothing but a joke."
By now, the young man in front of him could no longer contain his anger and shouted back. "Is that what you think? Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and fight me asshole?"
Baek smiled, amused. "What's your name boy?"
"Yaz" The student answered through clenched teeth.
"Well Yaz, from what I can see, you're not even worth my time. So be a good little bitch and relay my message to Law instead."
Without a word, Yaz struck at Baek's face with a hard punch. Baek was unprepared for it and got hit, but he did anticipate the kick the young student was about to do and blocked it. His temper flared from being hit and started retaliating with his own barrage of attacks. His two companions had also provoked the other students and soon an all out brawl erupted through out the small dojo. The three other Mishima employees came in bringing canisters of gasoline. Baek and the two men had handled the less than skilled students very easily, with Baek taking out the more advanced fighters including Yaz.
As the five men poured gasoline all over the dojo, the students started running for their lives. Those who couldn't either limped or were helped out by the other students. Outside, Baek spotted the injured Yaz lying on the ground. Baek stood over the injured young student. "Tell Law that Baek has called him out; and if he has any balls at all, he'll come to the second Iron Fist tournament." Baek walk towards his companions in the van as the flames consumed the dojo building behind him.