Jin woke with a start. Looking around, his panic soon receded; everything seemed exactly the same as when he had fallen asleep, and there was no blood anywhere. He checked the small digital clock in his holdall; a few hours had passed, no more.
He slumped onto the makeshift bed, sighing with relief. As he pulled some fresher clothes out of his holdall, his eyes fell on some photographs that were at the bottom of the bag, carefully wrapped in clear plastic. Still lying on his back, he abandoned the clothes in favour of the pictures.
I don't know why I keep these, he thought bitterly. They either remind me of what I've lost, or what I can't have.
Looking at them, he knew why he kept them. They reminded him of better times, and despite everything, gave him hope. There he was with his mother, when he was ten years old; he was grinning, and she was wearing her familiar gentle smile, her gaze directed towards him with maternal pride.
Another photo; he was older this time, crouched on the roof of their home. He was fixing the roof, he remembered. His mother's pose was full of movement; she had set the timer on the camera, and had been in the process of positioning herself for the shot.
Later that day, she had told him about his father.
Those were the only photos that survived the attack by Ogre. But he had others, new memories...there was one of him and Ling. She had insisted that he had a copy, and now he was glad of that. There they both were, in their Mishima College uniforms; he was looking bemused, maybe slightly alarmed, and she was grinning, blushing furiously with one arm flung around his neck, and the other raised in a victory salute. She had pounced on him, he remembered with a smile, whilst her friend was armed with a Polaroid camera.
Going to the college had certainly been something new for Jin; for most of his life he had lived in almost total isolation with only his mother, and occasionally other wildlife protection officers. The experience of having hoards of teenage girls lusting after him was a new, bewildering, but not entirely unpleasant experience. Ling had always been particularly bold, in a shy sort of way, if that was possible. Her irrepressible love of life was almost catching; it was only now he realised how much she helped him remain the sort of person his mother would have wanted to be, rather than the person Heihachi was trying to mould him into.
Ling, I never realised how much I would miss you. I never knew.
Was she safe? She had been knocked out of the tournament by King, but he had no idea what happened to her after that. He hoped that Heihachi was just leave her alone; surely she didn't possess any knowledge that Heihachi thought was worth killing her for...but then again, Heihachi never had any moral compunction about killing anybody. Jin fought down the venomous bile that nearly always accompanied thoughts of his grandfather.
Putting the photo carefully to the side, he pulled on his clothes; this time he was wearing a fairly anonymous looking hooded sweatshirt and a pair of baggy trousers. A trip to the city was in order; he had to restock his dwindling food supplies, and perhaps find out if the next rounds had been announced.
He had contemplated quitting the tournament, but something told him that he had to see it through to the end. If he didn't act now, how much more damage could the Mishimas wreak upon the world? And he would forever be hiding, forever be running, both from his family...and himself. Perhaps if he gained control of the Ziabatsu, he could use its vast resources to see if there was a cure for the Devil Gene, a way to purge it from his body.
Looking at his photos, his determination was strengthened. He had to hope...
********
Kazuya woke drowsily, the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears. A sense of wretchedness wracked his body, and his arm and shoulder muscles were protesting in a manner he hadn't experienced since he was very young. His whole body was heavy, and it was a strain to lift his head.
He struggled to remember how he got here, before the answer flooded his mind. The Tekkenshu, the mercenary task force established and commanded by his father, had pumped him full of tranquilliser darts, and obviously brought him here...wherever here' was.
A sense of recognition made Kazuya's spine tingle. He was suspended by chains in a large wood panelled room, decorated by serene statues of Buddhist figures. The sight and smell of the room brought a whole deluge of memories into Kazuya's mind; his father, teaching him how to break boards, sparring with his adopted brother, Lee, and defeating him every time...yet it was never good enough for Heihachi. He was never good enough.
With effort, he pulled at the chains that imprisoned him. He could see the manacles had some sort of electronics built in, with an LED blinking steadily. He rattled the chains a bit more-
I'd save your energy, boy...you'll need it.
Kazuya looked down and forced his eyes to focus. They narrowed at the speaker came into view.
he sneered. Your taste in laboratory decor has changed since you were in my employ.
The elderly doctor laughed, a hideous, phlegmy cackle that set Kazuya's teeth on edge. So, his father wasn't going to try and kill him yet...he was going to try and unlock the secrets of his DNA. As the doctor opened a panel in the wall, revealing a sophisticated analysis computer, Kazuya felt himself smirk. Heihachi's arrogance would cost him dearly.
Well, doctor, he said sardonically. What's the verdict?
The doctor was cursing under his breath, his knuckles whitened. He spun sharply, glaring at the shackled man, but remained silent.
You do realise, of course, Kazuya began quite conversationally, That the Devil Gene' is notoriously difficult to study? It's quite unstable and almost impossible to isolate without the proper knowledge. But of course, you have that, don't you?
Of course you don't, Kazuya thought with a sneer. G-Corp managed to destroy most of the files during my father's raid, while I kept the Tekkenshu busy.
Kazuya's smugness was somewhat diminished when Abel stuck a syringe in his ankle; despite his best efforts, he could only manage a gentle swinging motion, rather than the swift kick he was planning. He struggled to control his impotent fury as the mad doctor filled the syringe with crimson.
You do realise, of course, Abel said, matching Kazuya's tone, That your much vaunted power is rendered useless by your restraints? He gave a condescending laugh. But of course you do.
You think chains and toys can hold me? Kazuya sneered. Abel's confidence seemed to falter, but he managed a humourless smile, taking more of the captive's blood.
We learnt enough from G-Corp's research to create your restraints. They possess electrical pulses that counteract your Devil Gene', preventing you from accessing your enhanced abilities. No, little Mishima, Abel taunted. You're not going anywhere. Doctor's orders.
Abel congratulated himself on his wit as he placed one vial of Kazuya's blood in the analysis machine. The remaining vials were placed in a small grey case, obviously to be taken to another lab.
When break free of these...toys, Kazuya said with disgust, I'm going to take a great deal of pleasure in killing you.
Abel chuckled darkly. But first, you have to break free.
The doctor tapped something into the computer, and it disappeared behind a panel. Kazuya felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him...then he felt nothing.