...Awaiting the hour of reprisal, your time slips aa-way - duhduh, duhduh, duduh, duduh......RAINING BLOOD! FROM A LACERATED....oh, you're awake!

Hwoarang blinked with confusion as he tried to determine his surroundings; he quickly realised he was in a car - Reiko's car, he realised - heading through the neon streets of central Tokyo. In a car, listening to Slayer, with Dai singing along. Loudly.

He also realised that he was far less dead than he had expected.

What happened? he asked, suddenly feeling fully awake and aware. Why aren't we red stains on the street?

What do you remember? Dai asked. Hwoarang couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a strange expression pass over her face, one that resembled caution.

I remember everything up until just after going out of the window, he frowned with the memory. And then...I think I passed out?

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Dai's face. My fault, probably. I think I smacked your head on the window frame. She grinned. But as we've said before-

I have a thick skull, yeah, yeah, Hwoarang smiled back, whilst trying to locate the source of the nagging disquiet that was plaguing him. It's funny, but my head feels fine. Better than fine, in fact.

Dai said, sounding even more relieved. I'll have to smack you around the head more often.

Hwoarang shook his head. You still haven't told me how we survived the drop, he said bluntly. Dai shrugged as she changed gear.

I have access to gizmos and gadgets that would make Mr Bond green with envy, she said. She smiled wryly. I would show you them, but then I'd have to kill you. Which, incidentally, I'm quite tempted to do anyway. What were you thinking?!

I thought you might need a hand, he replied. And you did.

I appreciated the diversion, she smiled. It meant I completed the mission with no fatalities - always a bonus. And, her grin widened, I got to see you in that hot little outfit!

Yeah, I'll have to change before-

His face fell as he suddenly twisted and grabbed his bag from the back seat. He pulled his watch out-

Dai chuckled. Your fight's not for another two hours. We'll be there early, in fact.

Hwoarang looked visibly relieved. Dai smirked.

So why did you decide to lend me a hand? And how did you know where I was going? She rolled her eyes. I can already guess, of course...

A little bird told me, Hwoarang said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. Though if she would have told me I was going to be flung out of a window-

A little bird. A little bird, with a big mouth, Dai said, sighing. Reiko. I'll kill her.

Yeah, well, get in line, Hwoarang smiled. I'll have a few words to say to her myself.

He relaxed back into the seat a little, and brushed his hair away from his eyes. Dai had turned the music up again, and was tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing; he had risked everything for a girl he knew nothing about, and still had no idea why-

Liar. You know why. You just won't admit it to yourself.

Hwoarang shook the thought away. Dai turned her head slightly.

Are you ok? she asked, concern colouring her question.

Yeah. I was just wondering...

Dai looked bemused at Hwoarang's hesitation.

Hwoarang raised a brow. I was just wondering why every time I go to help you, I'm the one that gets knocked out?

The question went unanswered as they entered a large car park, guarded by large men in suits. Dai presented their passes, and the guard looked at her incredulously.

You're a competitor?

Dai nodded, realising that she was still wearing her suit from the data lab raid. The back of her neck prickled uncomfortably, as she realised she may have made a fatal error; if the tournament guards were under the same division as the data lab guards...

Her concerns seemed unfounded as the guards waved them through.

Park in the green zone. Don't get beat up too bad.

Uh, thanks, she said, and made her way around the car park. As she reversed into the space, there was an enraged shout.

YOU! Where the hell is my bike?!

Dai muttered, as Paul Phoenix came storming over. Despite his age and the past few years of degeneration, he still cut an imposing figure.

You want me to deal with him? Hwoarang asked quietly.

No, you get ready for your fight, she whispered. I'll be ok.

Hwoarang's mouth twisted into a smirk. Sure. I'd probably only end up getting knocked out, anyway...

The fuming American stood by the door of the car, and Dai eased herself out gingerly.

Mr Phoenix, she said, speaking in her native English for the first time in days. She bowed respectfully. Please accept my sincere apologies for my...informal borrowing of your bike, and also for any inconvenience it may have caused.

Paul Phoenix's mouth opened and closed, reminding Dai of a trout. He had expected a flat-out denial, not a full confession, complete with apology.

Uh, right, he said, unsure of what to do next. My bike...?

Not too far from here, Dai said. I left it near the Tokyo Tocho, in west side Shinjuku. Here are your keys.

Paul accepted the keys, still slightly dumbstruck. As if suddenly remembering he should be annoyed, he frowned, eying the young woman with deepening suspicion.

Who were those guys you were running from?

I don't know, she said, not entirely untruthfully. Possibly government agents looking for Hwoarang at the request of his government.

Hwoarang? The Korean Tae Kwon Do guy?

That's the one. He went AWOL to fight in this tournament - it's kind of important to him.

Paul nodded slowly, rubbing the stubble on his face. It looked to Dai as if he was having some kind of internal debate. He gave a resigned sigh; whatever the issue was, it seemed he had resolved it.

I don't know why I'm telling you this, he began, Seeing that you took my bike and everything, but the guys who were chasing you seemed interested in you, not Hwoarang.

Dai managed to keep her expression neutral. So they had been after her.

Given the Mishima Ziabatsu's widespread influence and extensive intelligence, it was only a matter of time before they figured out who she worked for. What they did about it, however, was yet to be seen.

Listen kid, Paul said quietly. I've fought in every one of these tournaments since Heihachi Mishima started them. Me? I keep out of the politics - the fight, the competition...that's what I'm here for. His voice dropped even lower. But that doesn't mean that I don't hear stuff. I've heard stories, rumours, about how the Mishima Ziabatsu treats people not in its favour. And that's why I'm warning you; be careful.

Dai bowed, genuinely touched by Paul's concern. After all, he owed her nothing, except, perhaps, a smack in the face for stealing his bike. Yet here he was, passing her valuable information that confirmed her fears, for no other reason than the fact that he thought it was the right thing to do.

Thank you, she said, not sure what else she could say. Paul smiled lopsidedly.

Hey, I haven't seen the state of my bike yet! He chuckled darkly. If there's even a scratch on it, you won't be thanking me - you'll be running!