A Tekken IV fanfiction by Saiyan Rage
CHAPTER 01
The rain has now completely stopped, but the cold still lingers.
It is strange…as I arrive at the designated place, I notice broken glass on the ground. Probably some drunkards hanging around—sigh— A reminder of where I am. I approach the front door. From what I can tell, it has an electronic lock, which means there is no way in hell I am going to get in here.
Strange. Upon closer inspection, the door is slightly ajar…power failure? I did not see any signs of an oncoming thunderstorm as I made my way here…and I know I hadn't inadvertedly used the lighting that courses from my very body to undo the lock as I inspected the door.
That nagging voice in the back of my mind reminds me about the possibility of something else happening this night.
I honestly wish it would shut the hell up already.
I stare at the door for a moment. There really is no room for debate; it's now or never. Discarding my cloak, I take a deep breath and carefully push the door open.
Nothing seems to trip.
I step inside…as I walk around cautiously, I have become aware of the fact that all of the surveillance cameras are not on and any security devices that I should have tripped by now have seem to have been deactivated (I just hope this includes silent alarms). Either something is really wrong here, or it is my lucky day.
"Lucky day" is a concept that is completely foreign to me. I have lucky moments, but it never lasts a day. Night is something else….
It is eerily silent. Perhaps I should move a little faster…that voice is telling me that something unpleasant will happen to me unless I accelerate…this time, I will not ignore it. I run over to the elevator—shit, I forgot, the power is out. No matter. I prefer taking the stairs, anyway. As I begin my ascension, I can hear the not-so-distant sounds of a helicopter…but it is not worth getting concerned over. I am here for just one thing. I cannot let anything hinder my concentration.
I still think about the anonymous tipster…who he is, how the hell he managed to track me down…why he is even showing interest in my case—how he even knew about it, as I have not spoke much of it to anybody…I certainly hope we will meet up—he will have a lot to answer for.
Obviously starting with…huh?
I am now on the way to the ninth floor, but I am hearing machine-gunfire…and it sounds extremely close to where I am now, and I am not sure I want to stick around—unless I want to be on the receiving end of it.
The voice: "You certainly chose a good day to do this."
I smile and shake my head in disbelief. I KNEW I was going to be set up—hell; I knew something would go unusually wrong. Why am I still standing here? The gunfire is getting closer…I look around, and find a door that will lead me right to the ninth floor. I go inside, letting the door close behind me, and stop dead in my tracks.
The room is trashed…broken glass everywhere; remains of what was either precious or trivial paperwork; computer monitors and towers now rendered useless. I see the light reflecting from several spent shells that are littered all over the floor.
Here is where I put two and two together: the shattered glass in front of the building…the strange power failure…the sounds of a chopper…the gunfire…
I certainly chose a good day to do this.
I inspect the room closely. Judging by the innumerable number of spent shells, it appears that there are several others here. I brush some glass shards off of a desk, and sit upon it, thinking over my situation.
I am guessing that they are making their way upwards…which means I have ample time to bail out of here, get as far away from this place as possible, and then track down the tipster so I can smash his head against a wall. Or into it. Depends on how my mood is. If I were he, I certainly wouldn't count on me being in a very pleasant mood.
I search my pockets for some cigarettes. I am not a smoker, but there just times when I need a little something to keep my mind off of my excessive worries for a mere moment. A waste of effort, but it is something to do when I cannot settle down to a book (something that I have not had time for as of late anyway).
Aah. I find an almost empty pack; there are two cigarettes left. I pat my pockets to feel for my lighter.
Shit.
I put the cigarettes away, lean back for a moment, take deep breath, and close my eyes, making my decision.
It's settled, then. I get out of here, get back to my hotel room, and curse myself out for being duped, and maybe even curse myself out for not being able to find the answers I hoped to find tonight…but that goes hand-in-hand with being duped.
I get off of the desk, and walk towards the door. I turn the handle and open it—
--And the barrel of a Desert Eagle greets me.
I glance at the bearer of the firearm, and then I notice that one of the others is wearing infrared goggles. That explains how they found me. The uniforms that they are wearing look very familiar, but I am still trying to place where I have seen them before. The bearer of the firearm is in a red uniform, while the others are in black—I assume the one in red is of a higher rank than the others in the group.
What their uniform represents and what colour they are the last things I should be worrying about; this guy is looking to blow my damn head off, and I am going to have to find a way out of this and still keep my head.
The bearer takes a moment to radio a message, possibly to the dispatcher of these soldiers. I continue trying to find the exact moment where I could take matters into my own hands, but a name that I hear from the firearm bearer successfully steals my attention.
My name.
He mentions the first target, which was this facility. Then he mentions the other target: me.
I really chose a good day to do this.
I contain my anger as best as I can, though that is a difficult task in itself, especially considering that these men are here to kill me.
At least, that is what they think they are going to do.
The bearer is finished with the message, but he makes a fatal mistake: his gun is a trifle lower, and he is glancing to his comrades to give them an order.
Almost without thinking, I grab the one in red. With my left hand, I force him to face his back to me so that may I place him in a chokehold; with my right hand, I took hold of his gun. Naturally, the other soldiers in his group drew their weapons, but I hear him screaming at them to hold their fire. Of course, this order does not apply to me, and a few pulls of the trigger let them know just that.
The fact that they are in a state of confusion over whether to fire or not only makes their situation worse—it's difficult to hit someone when they're using your commanding officer as a human shield. For some reason, their protective vests were not doing well against the gunshots. As they say, "Ain't that a bitch".
I take the motherfuckers down, and then I force the firearm from the last man standing, and with my left fist I smash into the soldier's helmet shattering the glass, and hopefully the bone structures in his face.
I suddenly remember that as I was getting myself out of this, the one I used for a shield just so happened to turn his communication link on, meaning that his little friends heard everything that happened, and that they will be heading in my direction to investigate the matter.
I check the clip on the gun—three shots left. I take a moment to inspect the unconscious body, and take the one other clip contained on his vest. To be honest, I have a severe dislike for guns, but when the odds are piled so high against you that you have to look down to see the top of it, sometimes you just can't wait on Lady Luck to give you that much-needed helping hand. I stare at the gun for a moment, turn the safety on, and then tuck it into the backside of my pants. I hear the thundering sound of footsteps approaching faster by the second.
As I ran for the eighth floor, I realized that there is only one thing I could do if I wanted to walk away from this one, and as much as I did not like this option, it would be the only way for me to walk about of here and not have to worry about them tracking me down—for a day or two, perhaps.
But it also occurred to me that they knew about me…and, apparently, my ties to this facility (Why is it that everyone knows about whatever it is that I have to do with this place BUT me? It is like a surprise birthday party, though I doubt the surprise will be anything pleasant.), so before I walk out of here, I will see to it that they answer my questions, and if I am lucky, tell me who the person that tipped me off was, so I can give him a piece of my mind as well.
I change my mind about going to the eighth floor, and instead run down the stairs as far as they will take me. About three flights below the first floor, I hear more footsteps—but these footsteps seem to be moving away from the direction I am heading in.
I stop to think this over…if I turn back now, I will end up right back into their clutches, and with results that would not be deemed favourable for me. If I follow the ones down here, I will have to deal the first blow—but if the blow is dealt in just the right way, things may just go a little smoother.
Not much, mind you. I'm looking down, and the odds are still stacked against me.
I follow the sounds of their footsteps as I run to catch up to them. I slow my pace down as I draw closer to them, but not so slow that I lose them.
After about three and a half minutes of tracking, I finally catch sight of them. They appear to be looking for something, and I notice the caution taken in their steps—it does seem to help.
If they were headed in the right direction, that is.
My right hand curls into a fist; the azure charge of the raging lightning contained within me courses around it to amplify the strength of the attack. On what appears to be an act on impulse (though that is not too far from the truth) I charge towards the group, and thrust my right fist right into the back of the one soldier closest to me, sending him into two others. The other three turn around, and are frozen in shock of seeing my appearance. The three I knocked down turn around so they could join in on being shocked to see me. I just glared at them, saying nothing. Two more red soldiers soon joined the six, and I did not need to turn around to know that the ones following me finally caught up.
No matter what I would have decided, I would have been surrounded. At least this way, I have a fighting chance.
One of the soldiers in red dashes up and tries to hit me with a high kick. Using my left arm, I parried the kick, and followed it up using my right fist to land a punch right in the gut.
He stumbles, but recovers in moments...those protective vests must have absorbed most of the impact. If I had time to charge up my lightning, those vests would not be able to do shit…well, no matter. I will have to improvise as best as I can.
He tries to throw a punch at me—he seems to forget that if a punch is going to work, it has to be within range of the person you're hitting. He throws another, but immediately cancels it into another kick—trying to fake me out with it. But I'm faster. I take grasp of his leg, and throw him against a nearby wall.
I turn around, and another soldier in red takes a swipe at me with a combat knife. He is just as stupid as the first one: he forgets about the law of being in range when attacking. He goes for a stabbing motion, but I take a small side step and use a left hook punch to his side—with no vest protecting the side area, the impact of the punch should easily render him unable to fight for a while. As he fell, another red takes a stab at me, but I took hold of his wrist and using my right leg, I smacked into the left side of his face forcing him to lean to his right, then the force of a second kick to the right side of his face sent him through a nearby glass window.
I turn around, and barely dodge a knife that would have slit my throat had I been half of a moment slower. The same red soldier tries to take another quick slash with the same hand, and then tries to stab at my heart—again, I happen to be faster. My left arm hooks right into his, and as I turn him towards the wall beside us, my right hand takes hold of the back of his head, and sends it right into the wall.
I look around me. The situation was no better now than it had been when I got myself into this. I brace myself for their next attack, but I am now surprised to see one of the reds ordering them to fall back. I stand there, in a somewhat confused state. Did they think that they were no match for me, so they decided to abort?
One thing I should never do is keep my hopes up, because I look down, and see something in a cylinder shape roll uncomfortably close to me…
Fucking Hell…
To attack me up close would have meant an instant beat down for them or hopefully worse; so they figure that by blowing me up, they could finally call it a night. I was almost beginning to think that they were right.
Trying to keep my mind on the predicament at hand, and keeping my composure and avoiding panic, I searched around as quickly as I could for a possible escape.
It was then that Lady Luck finally smiled upon me.
I ran to a door, forcing it open, only to wind up falling down a few flights of stairs—mind you, however, I will take getting a few bumps and bruises over getting blown to bits any fucking day of the week. As I fell, I heard the explosion, and was thinking about how too damn close that was. As I stood up, I felt a pain in my back…apparently; I fell on the gun on the way down. Again, I was thinking about how damn lucky I was for once, because being shot by my own handgun would have been embarrassing.
I really despise guns.
I hear the soldiers looking around whatever was left of the floor they hoped I was on when the grenade detonated. I took hold of the handgun, and slowly crept up the stairs, until I was at the floor beneath them. I walked into the room…I met the room with a shiver…I notice that my arms clutching to my shoulders, and force them off…I look up at the ceiling, and raise my gun.
One pull of the trigger.
Two pulls of the trigger.
That should be all it takes in order to get their attention. I quickly head out of the room, and descended to what appears to be the last floor in the building. I did not want to waste time thinking about how many floors this place had that went below the lobby.
There were actually some lights on in here…there must be a back-up power generator around here. But, the lighting is so dim, if I were to find the right hiding place, I could be easily unnoticed. Taking advantage of that, I jumped up to the nearest corner, and set myself there. It was not very comfortable, but I counted on these soldiers to arrive here any second now.
The door bursts open, and they ran in, weapons drawn. I watched as they cautiously walked around the room, looking for me…I need to think of something, though…my grip is failing, and keep in mind, I'm holding a gun.
Fuck it. I take careful aim, and take out as many of the lights as I possibly can—by the time I manage to take out the fifth one, they see me, and open fire as I jump down from my hiding spot, but I barely manage to dodge their friendly fire—
--NNNGH!!
A bullet grazed me on my right shoulder as I jumped down. Damn it, I can't afford to think about that right now, I have to get my ass out of this first.
Trying not to think about how close their gunfire is to me, I jump onto another wall, and leap off of it, using the momentum to my advantage and concentrating it on a mid-air kick using my left foot. It connects with the neck of the red soldier responsible for grazing me with that one shot. The kick breaks his neck upon contact. As I land, I turn around and manage to catch a combat knife that could have landed in my spinal cord had I not turned around and caught sight of it. I twirl the knife, and before he can even think about pulling the trigger on a drawn Desert Eagle, I throw his treacherous blade at his neck, landing it right in the jugular.
As he falls, I quickly roll right into the middle of the remaining group—this way, they cannot open fire on me without risking each other's lives. I spring right onto my feet and then get into a crouch, ducking a punch thrown carelessly by one of the soldiers, and I immediately counter-attack using an electrically charged uppercut to the chin, sending him airborne.
Turning around, I immediately hit the soldier that stood behind me first in his head with a high left kick, following it up with a punch to the gut leaving him stunned, then I used a quick low kick to throw off his balance, and I finally finished it off with a punch to the side, severely damaging the right side of his ribcage.
I took a moment to rest, taking in deep breaths. They appeared to be the last of the soldiers…at least, for the time being. I am sure that they called for back up as I was evading them, and they are most likely on their way—
FUCK!!
I feel a rather sharp pain in my back. I quickly turn around, and see one final soldier, brandishing a combat knife, fresh with my blood. However, his trembling and the fact that this wound was nothing too serious told me he was too scared to finish the job. I slowly approached him, the rage building inside of me. The soldier, finding that there was no escape for him, dropped the knife and fell to his knees, begging me to spare his life. At this point, I was actually enjoying this. I pulled out my gun, and aimed it at his head, and his pleads for mercy sounded more desperate.
I sneered, ready to tell him how badly they ruined my night, when I noticed something mounted on the left side of his helmet: a surveillance camera. He was still trying to convince me why I should spare his life, but I was ignoring him, taking a closer inspection at his uniform. It was no easy task as half of the lights in here were shot out, thanks to me.
Suddenly, my eyes are wide with shock…and pure resentment. On the soldier's left arm is an armband of sorts…I make out the Kanji written on it, and it reads:
Mishima Tekken Forces.
Mishima.
Mishima…
And then it made perfect sense as to why these second-rate soldiers tried to kill me. It was because of him.
Everything seemed to be in a blur…my head began to ring with a strange and burning pain… a strange pain that I had felt before, but never left me, instead staying dormant…
The pain of pure hatred.
At this point, the soldier had ceased his begging, and remained silent. The gun still held tightly in my left hand, I stared directly at the camera.
"So you know now that I am very much alive, old man," I said, assuming that he was witnessing this from God knows where, "You cannot kill that which will inevitably kill you. I will get it all back. From you…I will get everything back!!"
As I shouted the last words to the old bastard, I lowered the gun and instead punched out both the soldier and the camera mounted to his head. He slumped down, unconscious.
I looked around to make sure nobody else remained standing, or even attempted to do so. If anyone else was on the way to take their chances against me, I am sure they had been ordered to retreat by now. Fine by me. I collapsed onto my knees, feeling almost exhausted. After about five minutes of getting myself together, I force myself to stand up.
Immediately, I throw the firearm aside…good riddance. I walked up to where the bodies lay, and immediately began a quick search for any information they might have stolen. Knowing my luck, it probably left with those who managed to escape with their lives…
Well.
On the dead body of a red Tekken Force, I find two floppy disks. Whether the information bears relevance to my case I do not know, but I believe it will contain some key to the locked answers I have spent the last decade searching for. I pocket the two disks, and immediately look for a way out of here.
As I climbed up the stairs to the lobby, I realize that there is some bleeding. The wound on my back I was aware of, but there was also a wound on my right hand—from when I caught that blade that was thrown at me. I unbutton my shirt and rip off a piece of the material hanging in front of me to my left with my teeth. Taking the torn cloth, I wrapped it around my right hand, tying a knot to secure it in place.
I walk onto the lobby, and I hear nothing but dead silence. This did not stop me from getting out of this god-forsaken place as fast as I could. After all, I doubt that Heihachi would want to leave his little Tekken Force lying around so that they remain and end up serving as outstanding evidence that he had committed the atrocity to this facility. I hope that the disposal unit will arrive here long after I have left.
As I stepped outside, I heard the distant sound of helicopters coming to this direction. Wasting no time, I ran as fast and as far away as I could, avoiding the street lights that illuminated the way to and from the facility. The choppers flew over me; whether they saw me or not mattered to little to me. Heihachi knows that I am alive, and I am certain he now wishes to return me to death by his own hands.
However, it will be he that will look down to see the odds stacked up against him, not me.
Approximately two hours after the events of this night, I finally make it back to my hotel room. I had to sneak into it to avoid stirring up a scene of sorts (imagine seeing a bleeding, bruised man stumbling about in the lobby of your establishment…okay then). I look at the two disks, and place them onto the table. As I am about to remove my shirt, I feel somewhat dizzy…my vision seems somewhat blurred, and I am barely aware of my body crashing onto the floor…it is then I realize that this night really took a toll on my energy…
Before consciousness manages to slip through my fingers, I begin to think that I am getting too old for this sort of thing…