A/N: This chapter is the graphic one ladies and gentlemen! Don't like, skip it now!

Ah yes, and I forgot to mention this ages ago; this is the very first Tekken attempt I made, but I like it all the same, so I'll post it. It is OLD, so bear with me.

~Kazuya-sama, beneath a paper bag

A Change Of Face

He felt a hand run down his back...an evil, perverted hand. 'What are you thinking, Kazuya!' he scolded himself. 'You let these cowards make a fool of you?!' He let out an angry snarl, and tried to free himself with a burst of inhuman strength. The men pinning him down struggled to hold him, but no matter how hard he tried, they still had him firmly plastered to the wall.

The hand ran downward further, looped around his belt, and dragged his suit trousers to the ground with ease, the hands holding his legs to the wall shifting over them, holding him still, but letting the pants slide free. So there he was, Kazuya Mishima, half naked, pinned to the wall of a lavatory in a grotty little restaurant. And it was still unclear what was to become of the situation.

That evil chuckle came from behind him again, and the hand ran up him again. He resisted a shudder of disgust...something wasn't right about that hand. The way it touched him. It violated him. But he wouldn't call for help. Kazuya was a proud man...he relied on no one.

Then, without warning, something happened that shouldn't have. One of the fingers from that hand...as the hand moved further down...too far down...a finger plunged inside him roughly, causing him to yell out. "BASTARD!" This wasn't looking good for Kazuya...he tried to struggle more, but he was still out-muscled by the many men. The finger removed itself, then came that sadistic, perverted laugh.

"Kazuya Mishima, eh? Hm, this shall be an experience..." The accent of a dirty scumbag from street gangs. Kazuya growled. How dare that piece of dirt finger him?! He felt so...violated...unlike anything he'd felt before. He felt a rage he hadn't felt in a long time. The same rage he felt when his father laughed at him, mocked him, called him weak. And that was with the help of the Devil Gene too. Now, he was feeling it all on his own.

"What do you want, you bakayarou..." he snapped angrily. He was not a man who appreciated being pinned to a wall against his will. In fact, he made a note to have these men killed slowly...one by torturous one.

He felt bristles and warm breath against one of his ears. The one who laughed at him was right up close to him, about to whisper in his ear. "Why, Mishima-san...we only want you!" Okay, not good. That didn't sound right.

"You're sick bastards. Put me down before I kill you all."

"Kazuya my dear, I don't believe you're in a position to be making threats." That voice was getting to him. He threw his head in the direction of the voice...and found his skull connecting with the man's jaw. Ow, that hurt...but not as much as it hurt this...pervert. He smirked slightly at the yowl of pain and surprise he got in reply, but his victory was short-lived. Once again, a fat finger plunged inside of him, and this time it didn't just surprise him, it hurt. It stung. But he grit his teeth, not making a sound. He would not entertain these bastards.

He calmed himself a moment, then tried to look over his shoulder. His head was shoved back into the tiles. A grunt, then he asked a question he would come to regret very shortly. "Who are you?"

There came that horrible laugh again. Was this guy drunk?! "I'm surprised you hadn't guessed, my innocent friend. Why, I'm the leader of one of the most prominent rape gangs in Tokyo." Oh boy, definitely not good. He couldn't believe what he just heard. Surely...surely they didn't intend to...do...that.

"Bastards!"

A sound of a zipper being pulled, then Kazuya felt something pressing against his entrance...he knew by the feel of it exactly what it was. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to kill something. He wanted to dig his fingers into the man's flesh and tear him apart. But all he did was freeze, hoping this was just a sick nightmare that would go away. Mutterings from the surrounding men, laughs, disgusting jibes...confirmed it was reality. He knew what was coming for him next. But he wouldn't entertain them. He was determined to stay silent, not give them their sadistic pleasure. No matter how much it sickened him.

Then, all hell broke loose. His vision blurred as a surge of unimaginable pain shot through his lower back, up his spine, through his legs and into his head. He felt something huge press inside him in one rough shove. He knew he'd been torn by the pain.

And he screamed.

As he felt that horrible thing slamming him into the wall over and over, laughs from the others, cheers, comments best not repeated, drifted through the air and stung his ears. His eyes stung too, with tears that wanted to fall. But he wouldn't let them. Despite this hideous violation, he would not grant them any further pleasure. He shut his eyes tight and grit his teeth, not letting a single sound pass his lips. He'd never hurt so much...at least, not in over forty years. Last time he felt pain like this was when he was thrown down that cliff, and landed on the rocks...hence that scar that has disfigured him almost all his life.

Disgusting chants and comments from the surrounding men rang in his ears.

"Nice and tight..."

"Poor little slut..."

"Nice piece of oriental ass..."

"Better relax, or it'll hurt more..."

"Good little whore..."

Finally, he thought it would all end, when he felt a repulsive splash inside him, and the man behind him groaned. The taunting turned to cheers, and the massive thing pulled out of him roughly. The searing pain subsided to a burning sting. He didn't breathe a sigh of relief...why give them the pleasure?

But it wasn't over. Hands removed themselves from his arm...but only two...which were quickly replaced. Oh no, what now? Before he knew it, the nightmare started again. A different thing shoved itself inside him and began slamming him harder into the wall again. This time he did let out a tiny yelp of pain...but he would not beg them to stop. Not on his life. He'd rather die than beg.

The same thing happened again, once the second round ended. But the pain was starting to take over...and as the third round began, Kazuya finally lost consciousness.