The guard keyed the code in for them, the impassive mask betraying nothing. Their guide had disappeared into the limo, and now its lights were distant specks amongst the trees, heading back towards the last compound station, two security zones away. There was a distinct lack of guards, Dai noticed, feeling decidedly uneasy about the observation. The door clicked open.

Here we go, Hwoarang smiled lopsidedly, stepping in first.

He was impressed by the dojang, it was a beautiful piece of architecture, inside and out. He noticed the lack of camera crews a few seconds after he noticed Heihachi standing over his opponent for the evening, who was trying to stand back up.

Ah, we have guests, Heihachi sneered. Hwoarang did his best to look unconcerned.

Wow. You really kicked the snot out of him, he said evenly, giving a respectful nod of the head.

Children need discipline, Heihachi smiled darkly. He turned to Dai. I see you brought a cheerleader.

I'm a woman of many talents, Dai said, matching Heihachi's tone. And I've got to say, I love what you've done with this place; bleeding grandson on floor, catatonic son hanging from the walls - it's very chi-chi.

Are you mocking me, girl? Heihachi asked, sounding amused. Dai shook her head.

No, I was commending you on you interior design skills. Where are the TV crews?

Technical fault, Heihachi stated. So that was his plan, Dai realised; if no-one witnessed the fight, Heihachi could make up any story that he pleased. No-one would challenge him.

Jin was on his feet now. A trickle of blood ran from his nose, but his eyes were alert. He glared at his grandfather balefully, his hands working themselves into fists. Hwoarang, now in a state of hyper-vigilance, gently brushed Dai aside.

I'm here to fight Kazama, Mr Mishima. I don't care about your Ziabatsu, I just want to fight him. It was a lie, but if it helped clarify the old man's intentions...

Heihachi floored Jin again, who had stealthily edging his way towards him. He stomped on him viciously, and Hwoarang saw his consciousness fade.

Kazama is out of the tournament, boy, Heihachi smirked. Congratulations, you go straight on to the main event. He dropped into his favoured stance. Show me what you've got.

The boy was, Heihachi had to concede, supremely skilled; he was fast, agile, and had tremendous power behind him. He evaded most of the Korean youngster's swift kicks, but a few contacted with his temple with dizzying force. He was, however, Heihachi Mishima; despite his advanced years, he still possessed tremendous strength; because of his advanced years, he had the experience of almost every conceivable fighting style, had fought opponents beyond count.

Including Hwoarang's mentor, Baek Do San.

Hwoarang was floored by a hammer blow to the stomach. He struggled to regain his wind, and his footing.

Impressive, boy, Heihachi said. You fight better than your teacher.

Hwoarang managed to swirl around Heihachi, who attempted to preempt Hwoarang's kick by grabbing him. Hwoarang, however, had other ideas, and with a flurry of motion, flung the old man around, twisting his wrist and elbow, and bringing him to the floor. He brought his heel down on the small of Heihachi's spine.

Which teacher? I have a few, Hwoarang grinned, winking at Dai.

Dai's attention was split between the fight and Jin, who was still lying unconscious. His pulse was strong, and his breathing was steady...he was just knocked clean out.

Come on, Jin, she urged in a whisper. You need to get out of here.

She winced as Hwoarang hit the deck again, having received a brutal uppercut to his chin. For a moment she was worried that he too had been knocked out, but then she caught the stony resolve in his eyes. He sprang back up, much to Heihachi's surprise.

Her gaze turned from Jin to Kazuya, dangling like some forgotten toy. The mighty Kazuya Mishima, strung up like a puppet. Dai had expected to feel revulsion, or at the very least contempt, for the man who had perpetrated so much evil throughout his life. To her surprise, what Dai felt was more like pity; he wasn't a monster...he was just a man.

Hwoarang had gone on the offensive, had floored the old man several times, but Heihachi kept on getting up. He was flagging, though, Hwoarang could see it. Heihachi was a formidable fighter, but he was nearly four times older than Hwoarang. If he could just wear him down...

Hwoarang caught a glint of something metallic before it contacted with his face. As he looked up he realised that he was looking at the barrel of a gun.

Dai cursed herself for being distracted as she saw Heihachi produce the gun from a concealed pocket from his gi trousers. She sprang up lightly, ready for action.

You're going to shoot me?! Hwoarang exclaimed in disbelief, as he fought the spots in his vision. Man, are you a sore loser!

You were a distraction, boy, nothing more, Heihachi breathed heavily. You will find your attempts to bait me fruitless. I have all that I want. Anything else- he turned the gun away and fired. -is expendable.

It took Hwoarang a few moments to register what had happened. He turned to the direction in which Heihachi's gun was pointing, as saw Dai, hand clutching her chest as blood poured out of it. The entry wound was huge, and Hwoarang knew after his time in the army, fatal. She fell to the floor, lifeless, empty eyes staring to nothingness under half closed lids.

Hwoarang screamed, his voice sounding shrill and alien over the buzzing in his head. God, no, Dai!

He rushed to her side, took her into his arms, feeling her lifeblood escape onto him. He cradled her head, tears streaming down his face. He was shaking - why couldn't he stop shaking? He felt the cold metal press against the back off his skull.

Now it's your turn, boy.