CHAPTER 03

I was finally leaving America via a private flight courtesy of the organization…knowing my luck (or the lack thereof), I will be returning here sooner than I even want to think...

During the flight, I took a moment to sleep, but now I am, as one would put it, "resting my eyelids". Strangely enough, I heard no sounds, so I assumed we had already landed and nobody was kind enough to wake me up (I don't bite unless provoked). I opened my eyes, but a light bright enough to compete with that of the sun forces them shut. I try to move, but for some reason my body feels stiff. The air around me is cold, and it feels as though nothing is protecting me from it…

…What the hell is this? I only fell asleep…this has to be some sort of sick joke. I open my eyes again, but the light still remained. I hear the sound of footsteps…whoever it may be; he or she owes me an explana—

--A female voice interrupts my thoughts. It sounds as though she is…talking to me, assuming that I am not conscious or even alive enough to be listening, but she is wrong. From what she is "telling" me, she is checking on my vitals, and according to her, she states that my progress since I had been removed from some sort of life-support mechanism has been going exceptionally well.

This feels very familiar, but from where? And when? I look deep into all of my memories, but come up empty. I have no recollection of being in an environment such as this…and as uncomfortable as it is, I actually do not blame myself for forgetting something as seemingly unpleasant as this, regardless of whether it occurred or not.

But if it never occurred, why does it seem so familiar?

The woman was apparently still present in the room, continuously chattering about her research like I actually gave a damn about it. I began to follow the sound of her voice to determine how close she was to me…and she was very close. Perhaps I should try to say something in order to get her attention, or scare the hell out of her. Whichever works…

My lips are forming the words, and yet no sound comes out. Again, what the hell? I know I can speak; there is nothing wrong with my voice…so why can I not speak?

The woman was over me…I was not sure what she was doing (and if I believed in such an act, I would pray that she was not a regular practitioner of necrophilia.), but if she was over me, which would mean that she was in the way of that light. I hoped this would work, as it was my only chance of getting her attention. Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes, and was looking directly at her name tag, which read—

"—Mr. Mishima, we have landed."

"Mr. Mishima, we have landed"? What the hell—my eyes open without hesitation, causing the poor stewardess who gently shook me out of the slumber to jump back a few paces. I look around me, and realize that I am not in the uncomfortable room any longer, but rather in a seat of a private jet plane.

"I-I am sorry if I disturbed you, sir," she apologized, a hint of fright still in her voice.

What was it that I was saying about not biting unless provoked?

I turn to the stewardess, and shake my head. "I had a rough flight, that is all." I rose from my seat, placed a pair of sunglasses to cover my eyes, and walked out of the plane. Standing outside were three men in dark suits (which really made my deep violet attire stand out)—must be bodyguards dispatched by the organization. I say nothing to them as I walk by them, letting a slight nod of my head speak for itself. The three followed me, one of them informing the head of the organization that I had made a safe return. Their following had ceased once the driver opened the door to the waiting limousine; sitting inside was my personal secretary. I removed my sunglasses to make eye contact with her; she was one of the few people to have actually seen me without something shielding my eyes from the rest of the world.

She bowed her head as I stepped inside, and handed me a folder.

"We have already begun a search for the scientist like you had requested, but her trail has come up cold so far," the secretary stated as I flipped through the folder. "Although our resources have yet to determine what information and documents had been stolen from the Nebraska facility, we managed to gather information about what had been stolen from the one located in Nepal—"

I looked at my secretary. "There was a facility in Nepal? Why had I not been previously informed of this?"

She shook her head. "By the time we received word of it, you were well on your way to Nebraska, and our inside resources had indicated that Heihachi Mishima had already taken control of the Nepal facility."

I tried my best not to slam my fist into anything, knowing that the impact may cause damage to whatever was unfortunate enough to take the blow. "Damn him! There is a report in here explaining what may have been stolen, yes?"

She nodded. "It may or may not be of use to you…I am sorry that your opportunity to investigate had been foiled, but had you been there at the same time, you may have been harmed; consider this a blessing in disguise."

I was about to reveal to her that I happened to be there the same time Heihachi's forces were and I almost let it slip that I also happened to possess a few pieces of the lost information from the Nebraska facility, but I felt that it would be better for the both of us if I remained quiet about that subject; not because I was looking out for her safety, but because I felt it unnecessary to wind up with a liability to hinder my personal mission. I quickly scanned over the documents and reports, and handed the folder back to the secretary.

"These reports do not specifically state what kind of files were stolen aside from that of the usual studies that take place within the Nepal facility."

Her lips formed a thin line. "Again, my apologies. There were many confidential files that remained inaccessible by the time those reports were written, and it may be impossible to figure out which ones were missing, considering much of the facility was destroyed after Heihachi Mishima and his forces departed."

"There is still the Nebraska facility, then. We will concentrate all efforts towards that, since they may be more likely to contain the information I truly seek."

She nodded. "Very well, sir. In the meantime, is there anything you need for me to do?"

I shake my head. "Just continue the efforts to gather information and find Rydia Gainsborough. Oh, and it would be an added bonus if you could find the identity of the one who had gave me the tip-off that started some of this mess to begin with."

I spent the remainder of the day in my room, first unpacking my luggage. I pulled out the shirt I wore a night and a half ago. I studied the various tears and bloodstains…this would have to remain hidden. I will worry about a suitable hiding place later. I also came across the two disks…I slowly held them up to eye level, and I simply stared at them like I thought the full answers would jump right out of them.

I suddenly felt this strange buzz in my head, which elevated to a searing pain. The room around me appears like vertigo; my hands grasp onto my head in hopes of ceasing this unpleasant pain. I suddenly feel faint….

…And then I hear a distant voice, begging for me to wake up.

Wake up…I am not sleeping, am I? Or did I fall unconscious? I cannot seem to remember…

Suddenly, I hear the same distant voice requesting to retrieve "the doctor", and that is when I try to open my eyes so they would hopefully find it unnecessary.

However, my attempts to "wake up" prove unsuccessful…my eyelids felt as though they were held down by some potent weight that prevented me from seeing what was going on around me.

I hear a new voice, a voice saying something about how it had been "too soon", and that I needed "more extensive therapy and treatments before such a thing was attempted again".

Too soon for what? What did I attempt? I was only unpacking my suitcase. The last time I checked, unpacking one's luggage was not considered a strenuous task. Suddenly, I feel these hands lifting me from the hard, cold surface of the floor, and placing me on a bed or something of the like, though it is not very comfortable. Although I was still unable to open my eyes for some reason, I reach out with my left hand, and it feels as though I successfully took a hold of someone—

--Only to wind up hearing a voice insisting that she checked to see if I was all right after hearing a scream from my room.

I slowly open my eyes, and find my personal maid caught within my grasp. I slowly let go, and shake away the strange experience from my head. The maid merely stated that she had heard me scream, and when she tried to wake me up, I suddenly grabbed her like I was going to beat her senseless. I responded by telling her that I was having a bad dream. She seemed very skeptical, and asked why I would sleep on the floor. I simply shrugged it off as jet lag. She shrugged her shoulders, and reminded me to let her know if I needed anything, and left.

I leaned against the foot of the bed, trying to comprehend what just happened….I had a similar experience on the flight, but there was no searing pain that preceded it at that time…is this experience linked to the one before it? Two strange dreams in the same day…whether it was merely coincidence or not, I feel that I cannot ignore this.

My eyes glance downward, and fixate themselves on the two disks I apparently dropped as I was in mental pain. I reach out for them, though my hand is trembling…there is hardly anything that I am afraid of, surely I was not afraid of two little disks.

I take hold of them, and immediately throw them back into the suitcase, and shut it. It did not matter to me if those disks were the direct cause of the last dream, or better yet, the information contained within—I would have to keep them very closely at hand so that I could study them further the next time the opportunity presented itself.

I shut my eyes…perhaps I would search into them during the course of the night…I want to, anyway, but this sudden weariness will not leave me. Perhaps I will have to investigate in the morning or so, depending upon if the Organization wants to bother me or not (and I hope they know better).

I remove the suitcase from the bed and place it on the floor. I lie down on the bed, not even bothering to really change into something more appropriate for sleep…something that would be considered "out of character", if the person observing knew me at all.

I stared ceiling fan, my eyes following the sluggish pace of the blades…causing my eyelids to weigh down…and close shut…

I was awakened by a sudden knock on my door. I slowly raised my head, turned to face the door, and I spoke with a tone letting the intruder know that I was not to be bothered any further:

"Unless you have any business with me, I would like to be left alone, thank you." I threw my head back onto the comfort of my pillow.

"It is I, Mishima-sama."

Shit, it was my personal secretary, and here I was, looking like I spent the night at a wild party and hit the bottle hard. No hangover, that's the fortunate part, though perhaps it would be more pleasant than what I have been going through as of late…

I quickly jumped out of bed, and faced the door once again. "I will be with you in a moment!"

"Very well." I could hear her footsteps echo as she walked away. I quickly changed into something not so sloppily, and barely took time to fix up my hair. I did not want her to see me as a mess—mind you, I am not attracted to her—I just do not wish to portray myself to anyone in as a disheveled wreck.

I left my room and met with her in the den. She had already set up a laptop computer and laid out a single folder on the coffee table. Sitting on the couch opposite her, I picked up the manila folder, which bore the label "G-Corporation Data".

"Is this the missing information?"

She did not make any sort of gesture indicating a "yes" or a "no". I place my attention on the folder, viewing its contents. Contained within it was a list of all the information that had apparently been confirmed missing or stolen from the Mishima attack. I scanned the list for anything of importance, and lo and behold at the end of useless information about biogenetics and experimentation, I found something.

File name "Devil Gene Research" and "Reconstruction Progress". These were the files I had…I removed the paper clip, and found another page with file names. At first, it appeared to be more of the same biogenetics bullshit listed on the previous page…and then more filenames of importance came up in the middle of the list:

"Review of Reconstruction"

"Possible Mental Ailments"

"Kazuya Mishima"

A review of the reconstruction…I suspect it will provide more in-depth information than that of the progress file did. The one about mental ailments worries me, however. I am hoping they are merely referring to the flashbacks that have been occurring since the Nebraska incident, and hopefully provide an explanation as to why they were even occurring in the first place…and then there was one with my name on it, literally. I looked up at my secretary.

"Is there anyone setting out to find these lost files?" I ask.

She placed her teacup on its saucer. "Indeed there has. It may take weeks, months at the most."

Months…time…I did not have time. Heihachi knows I am alive, and the longer I would wait for my answers, the sooner that he would get onto my side of the board and call "Checkmate".

She looked at me as if she were reading my thoughts…I had seen this look before, and I hated it…

"As much as I will regret this." She sighed. "I have a video clip that was taken earlier this morning. A breaking news report…perhaps this is opportunity knocking at your door."

I took the laptop, and played the video clip. Heihachi (who, I noticed, has aged rather poorly. Serves him right, but I wonder if I will end up meeting a similar fate—probably won't live long enough o find out) had called together some sort of conference to make an announcement to the news media. He took his damn time before he began to speak, the flashes of cameras reflected upon his form and that of two bodyguards. I drummed my fingers on the table with one hand, and turned the audio up on the laptop with the other in case the old man finally said something. My secretary simply sat there, enjoying her tea. The old man's lips appeared to be forming the first words since the video clip started, a minute and a half ago. He thanked the press for showing up to his impromptu conference…

Yeah, Heihachi thankful. That will be the day…but then again, I am no more thankful than he (and why should I anyway? Nobody ever did anything for me, and if they did, you think I would give a shit? I don't ask for anyone's approval, because I DON'T approve of any of them. ).

Suddenly, my train of thought was put to a halt—more like derailed, when my ears picked up on the announcement Heihachi had to make.

"I hereby announce the 'King of the Iron Fist Tournament Four'—"

Whatever else he had to say, I did not hear it. All I thought about was the coming of a Fourth Iron Fist…and I knew why it was announced.

The Tekken Forces had cameras mounted on their helmets, this I recalled. I also recalled that when I met up with them, I spoke into one, and Heihachi just so happened to be on the receiving end of it, for which I was glad for, as I had issued my warning…and promise…to him. However, I came into realization as to why this tournament was announced…Heihachi's ulterior motives…

…Me. It was me he was after. For what, I could only guess as for the simple pleasure of killing me again, making sure I wouldn't be so easily (ha) resurrected this next time around. If I wanted to enter this tournament, I would be walking into a trap…

He must think I am stupid if he thinks that I will waltz into this one solely to put an end to him. I would save that honor for another time. It would be too obvious if I were entering to kill him.

The only reason I would enter is because it would be my only shot of retrieving that missing information without waiting…putting my life on the line, and risking getting a bullet in the head.

Frankly, I prefer my way.

I turn to my secretary; she was looking at me in that way I did not like.

"You will be entering?"

Slowly, I shut the case on the laptop computer. "If I am to get what it is I seek, then you already know my answer. Be sure you leave this folder here." I stood up, and headed for my room.

"Mishima-sama."

I turn around.

She removed her glasses. "Just so you know, I will be behind you every step of the way."

I was not one for being wished "good luck" or receiving any kind of support, but with my secretary it was different. She too was willing to sacrifice herself for my cause. Tool.

I enter my room, closing the door shut. Leaning with my back against the wall, I slowly slide to a seating position…

"King of the Iron Fist Tournament Four"; that is such an incomplete and incorrect title. "The King of the Iron Fist Tournament, Formatted to Fuck Over Mishima Kazuya" seems appropriate enough.

I suddenly feel a nicotine craving coming on.

It had been about nine hours since the announcement…a full pack of cigarettes was reduced to an almost depleted pack of cigarettes. I had resisted thinking any more about this upcoming tournament…it was definitely a trap, but I would approach this for completely different reasons. No matter how I look at it, however, there's only one reason Heihachi would want to lure me into this: he wants me dead. That's all there is to it.

That's all…?

I smile…and chide myself. I know better than this; I'm smarter than this. Heihachi's ulterior motive runs deeper than just wanting me dead…the G-Corporation attacks are proof…and I am somehow involved with the G-Corporation as well. They got a hold of information that I need…information about me.

Well fuck me; I guess there is more to this.

Heihachi has me right where he wants me. He probably knows I want that information he has. He definitely knows I want to kill him.

I lower my head, eyes shut. I can almost see his lips forming the word "Checkmate…"

…But this isn't going to be that kind of game. I'm a card man, myself, and like I had once stated, I'M holding all the cards now.

But what is in that hand, I do not know, out of fear that what they will say will prove disadvantageous on my end. I will just give myself the benefit of the doubt.

It may be my only…only…

I try to say the four-lettered word, but it is difficult…I've never believed in what that little word stood for in its most extreme context, and I do not know if I can say it now.

Hope…

My eyes snap open. A voice in the back of my mind…a voice I had not heard in such a long time, so long that I cannot recognize it…a voice said the word for me.

Hope…I shake my head. You shouldn't believe in concepts that never gave a damn about you anyway. Hope never bothered with me, so why should I bother with it?

I light up my tenth cigarette. If the tournament doesn't kill me, then this sudden binge will. I laugh to myself at the thought, even though it is hardly funny. I once knew someone who would do worse than I was doing now. He smoked an entire carton in a week's time, and yet, he still managed to prove himself a rather formidable fighter…not formidable enough against me, of course—

--But that is just a page in my past, a book that should be kept shut and under lock and key.

If I were going to stand a chance in Hell, I would have to take my training a little more seriously. I have not neglected it too badly, but it would have to be my number one priority until I walk out of there either victorious and alive…honestly, I could settle for just the latter. At this point, I don't care if I win or lose. Heihachi may want me, but I do not want him.

Not yet, anyway. He may have gotten older, but I do not doubt for a minute that he is just as lethal now as he was twenty years ago…improving on his beloved Mishima-style Karate. He isn't the only one; I've picked up a few tricks of my own. But how will it stand against his? I leave that to the cards.

The silence in this room almost drives me mad. I grab the remote control, and flip on the television. I flip through the many channels—why there are so many channels showing the same tired shit just in a funny hat is beyond me—until I come across a news channel discussing this morning's announcement.

They were discussing the controversy…oh; how I did not miss dealing with that when I organized the second tournament. However, it appears that the press is being much more difficult to Heihachi than they ever were to me.

There were representatives from the government; one of them was arguing that the tournament was a crime against human rights and a man's right to live.

I found myself laughing once more.

People often find my sense of humour sarcastic and sardonic….

I laughed because of how brilliant of an actor this representative was…trying to lay his sappy sentiment on Heihachi, his lawyers, and other representatives of the MFE; trying to dissect every detail about how brutal one could be slain, though his over-the-top efforts would be in vain. Oh, and here he is, talking about how they allow WOMEN (I over-emphasized this word just as much as he did) to participate in such a "barbaric and merciless blood sport". Then, he brings up how they allowed "a minor; a sixteen-year-old girl" to take part in the tournament. A woman (who I was unsure whether she really gave a damn or was acting as well) representing animal rights interrupts her fellow representative, mentioning that they "forced a grizzly bear and an endangered panda to participate as well". Drama so trite and pathetic can be of decent quality when one can remark on it…

I continue watching the government representatives and their poor attempts of an argument. Perhaps if they were not so hypocritical, their arguments would show a little more merit. I have heard the phrase "practice what you preach"; it is obvious that what it is they are trying to preach to Heihachi is that he should "do as we say, not as we do".

I have my own preaching for every one of them, and in my opinion, far more helpful: They all should just go fuck themselves.

At this point, the telecast is pointless. I hear different representatives say the same damn things, just with altered wording to appear to come across as different. I see Heihachi making counter-arguments or using the tried-but-not-necessarily-true "no comment" formula, and it is at this point that I realize that the curtain should have gone down on this performance ten minutes ago. Remote control in hand, I turn the television off, walk up to my bed, and lie down.

In my half-asleep state, I allow for my mind to wander…

…And I see myself in a rather plain hotel room. The place around me isn't the only thing that was different now…time had changed, moving back to a past I and I alone only knew. I almost felt a sense of déjà vu, but the man that I speak of shared little in common with me as far as our priorities went. We both wanted to kill our fathers, yes; but it ended there. He entered solely to kill his father and take the Mishima Zaibatsu. I entered to learn the truth and perhaps put an end to the accursed Zaibatsu, because I want nothing more to do with it. The young man before me seemed so sure of himself…he had trained so long and hard for this occasion, I could tell. However, he was stupid! He was stupid because he should have known that there would be consequences.

There are ALWAYS consequences.

I open my eyes…that young man…yes, I know him very well. I should know him, because…because it was those very consequences that got me where I was today. It was his fault, after all. Do I hate him for that? Somewhat. If not for his actions, I would not have gained a better insight of what it is I was truly doing. Do I wish that he thought the same way then as I do now? Yes…and no. If he had thought this through thoroughly, he would have met with a more pleasant fate. I say no as well, because he was still young, and one tends to act more carelessly during that time. I also think he is damn fortunate—not everyone gets second chance.

I sneered. What was in the past was in the past. I start regretting my past actions now, I may end up seeking excessive therapy—and I may be seeking that for the rest of my life.

I sat up, extinguishing my cigarette, staring straight ahead. I need to lay off the cancer sticks if I am going to be at my best. How much time I will have to train depends on how soon Heihachi could organize it…the government would prove a thorn in his side, but I doubt that they will be bothering him for long. I shake my head. Any amount of time would be good enough for me. I grab my suitcase, and open it up, looking for the items I would need. I pulled up a pair of red gloves. They were cut-off gloves, with a buckle for guaranteed hold. The round rivulets reflected the light from the room…I once had a pair somewhat similar to these…red, with the rivulets that were in rows of four; in a descending order from my knuckles of four rivulets, three rivulets, two, and then one. The pattern was that of a simple triangle, but I felt it was something of a trademark design of my own.

Ahh, how I love the smell of sentiment in the morning. Or whatever the hell time of day it may be…

I pull out another necessary item…a pair of white gi pants. I wore a pair like these decades ago, but I made a few changes on these as well. I had it custom designed to sport a rather unique design; although abstract, the design represented the legendary phoenix…I had chosen this because I too practically rose from the ashes of death. I had actually never worn it before; instead favouring a pair that was of a much simpler design.

This pair would debut at the fourth Iron Fist, but solely for its symbolic purposes.

I packed the items back inside the suitcase, and sighed. All that was left to do now was wait until the tournament arrived…but I would not be waiting simply sitting around…