Nina Williams sat in her hotel room, cleaning her formidable and mainly illegal array of weaponry. It helped her concentrate, keep her mind on the present moment. After all, it was all she had.

She was, she reflected bitterly, a woman out of time. No friends or family to speak of, no memories - just an undeniable talent for killing. The woman, Anna, said that she was her sister. She had made out that they had been close, but Nina couldn't help but feel that she was lying. All she felt towards her sister' was a vague sense of revulsion.

Dr Bosconovitch had gently told her that there was currently no scientific way to recover her lost memories. If they were to come back, it would have to be a unforced process.

Cryosleep, my dear, is an unnatural process with many unpredictable variables. You lost your memories, your sister didn't. I do not know why, my child, but I promise to help you however I can.

She had wondered why the doctor had been so helpful without promise of reward - and when she found out, she had nearly killed the old man. Would have killed him, if the strange Yoshimitsu had not of intervened.

It had been Bosconovitch who had put her into cryosleep, and left her in this purgatory-

Purgatory?

A flash of memory - a man with a rosary crossing himself - a statue of the Virgin Mary on the mantelpiece-

She tried to mentally grab hold of the image, tried to grasp it-

she whispered through clenched teeth. But it was gone.

She buried her head in her hands, her eyes filling with tears. The only memories she had since her awakening' were of death and betrayal. Had this always been the way? Had she ever shared her life with friends, people that she loved? If she found them, how would she explain her youthful appearance, or the fact she had been missing for twenty years? Was there someone out there, thinking What ever happened to Nina?' Or had she always lived like a shadow?

Stop it, she commanded herself. Get a grip.

She turned her attention to her current job; her target was a young boxer who had, until quite recently been a world renowned champion. The photo showed he was quite tall, well built -

Hand to hand combat would be unnecessarily risky, and would draw to much attention. She subconsciously reached for her sniper rifle. She had already been through this, but it never hurt to go over any plan to find its weak points. Her employers had made sure she was close to her target - her hotel was directly opposite his.

Whenever she had seen this Steve Fox, she had experienced an unnerving sensation, like a tingle at the back of her mind. Did she know him, she wondered., or someone who looked like him? An uncharacteristic hesitancy kept visiting her; she felt reluctant to assassinate someone who might hold the key to a valuable memory.

As she reminded herself once more that she had a job to do, there was a tap on the door. Quickly hiding her guns away, but putting a lethal looking knife into her boot holster, she approached the door. Cautiously, she opened it, and relaxed slightly at the familiar sight of the porter.

A package, ma'am, he said nervously. She bowed politely, and took it into her room.

It was addressed to Mary O'Connor, her current pseudonym. Not that it mattered - it could only be her employers. Only they knew where she was...

Her blood froze as she tore off the packaging. Inside there was a letter, written in elegant, looping script, quite clearly addressed to her, not her nom-de-plume:


Dear Nina,

You do not know me but be assured that I only wish to help. Enclosed is further information about your target, Steve Fox - information which your employers do not wish for you to know. The reason for this will be obvious once you view the information - should you choose to, that is.

I know that you will be suspicious of this information, coming from an unknown source, but I know that you are resourceful enough to verify its authenticity. Please think about it before you carry out your job - for your sake as much as his.

Sincerely,

D.


Staring at the letter for a long moment, Nina turned her attention to the second part of the package; an unmarked disc. Steadying her trembling hand, she inserted the disc into her laptop's drive.

The screen lit up with the logo of the Mishima Ziabatsu's confidential data division, and her eyes widened. She had tried to hack into these very same files, the ones concerning her cyrostasis, but had been thwarted every time.

There it was; the history of her life, her family...much of it she already knew from Anna, but it was good to see it from an independent source.

Assuming, of course, this isn't one of her sick jokes....

The details of her capture and her enforced imprisonment which had lasted nearly nineteen years...she shuddered. If this was a fraud, it was an extremely well researched one, and superbly put together. She scanned through the information, absorbing it, unable to tear her eyes away, even for a moment. They'd even got her lab number right; 462343-NW

She frowned. According to the logs, she had been subject to an additional experiment in the early stages of her cryosleep; experiment 462345-A. She searched through her files for further reference to this experiment, but there was none; it had to have a file of its own...

Search entire database?

Go on then, she muttered, Let's see what the freaks did to me..

A few seconds later, another file flashed up, entitled Steve Fox'.

There were photos of her target - many photos, taken at various points throughout his life. The earliest ones were taken quite openly; there he was as a newborn, then as an toddler...after that, the photos' quality was shakier, as if they were taken through a long distance lens, featuring Steve Fox as a young boy, then as a gawky teenager. There were also photos taken from newspapers, from the start of his boxing career to its very pinnacle, before he displeased her employers.

Nina sighed. If D' thought that showing her target as a child would soften her resolve, he or she was mistaken; she was a professional, able to distance herself from such things. And yet...

A cold sensation ran down her spine. What had this man to do with her, and her time in cryosleep? She forced herself to read the accompanying text file. A single line answered her question.

Subject conceived by in vitro fertilisation; mother cryrosleep subject 462343-NW.

She covered her mouth, as if worried she might scream. If she did start screaming, she might never be able to stop. That bastard had put her life on hold for twenty years, and had allowed her body to be violated...

She looked at the photos of Steve Fox on the screen. That was her son. Was that why she had that strange feeling every time she saw him? Some maternal instinct?

A noise, somewhere between a laugh and a choked sob came from her mouth. She had a son who was nearly as old as she was. But he still her son...

Taking a swig of whiskey from a flask, Nina pulled a face as the fiery liquid burned her throat. She had to calm herself.

This could still be a sick hoax, she thought. One way to find out...

She picked up her mobile phone, and dialed in the number. It was somewhat perverse, she thought, that she could remember an infinite number of passcodes, phonenumbers and complex security protocols without a hint of trouble, but couldn't even remember how many sugars she had in her tea...

The phone rang out briefly, until an elderly sounding man answered.



Bosconovitch, it's Nina Williams, she said with an icy calm she didn't feel.

Ah, Nina! We've been so worried-

Be quiet, she snapped. She almost sensed the frail doctor recoiling. If you want to help me, just tell me one thing, doctor- She spat the title like an insult. Was there an experiment 462345-A?

Nina's facade cracked under the doctor's silence.

Damn it man! she shouted, Do I have a son?!

We hoped to tell you when you recovered your memories, but yes, Nina. You have a son.