Author's Note: Well, it's update time friends and neighbours! As
promised, I'll be giving Nina and Combot's endings a spot of the ol' spit-
and-shine in this chapter. And a shout-out to my first two reviewers.
The Brothers Mishima: Thanks for the compliments. And yes, despite Namco's efforts to claim the contrary, Lee at least looks homosexual. But personally, I think him and Nina make a nice couple. Not that I'll be delving any further into that relationship in this fic.
Spifferfish: Love the name, dude. And thanks, it's nice to know I'm keeping this site alive.
And ho-ho-ho, on with the show!
*******
Ending Number 3.0: Nina Williams
The people of Hong Kong were used to odd sites. Being as close to Japan as it was, it was home to many an anime convention or giant robot/dinosaur parade; and the British's influence had left a mark, in the shape of more Western fast-food joints and lager brands than the average citizen could shake a child's toy lightsaber at. Heck, most people wouldn't even blink if Godzilla came to town. So it wasn't much of a surprise that nobody paid much attention to the miniature chase developing in the uptown district where all the big corporation's HQs were located.
Nina ran as fast as she possibly could, keeping her eyes in front of her. Her head throbbed with the weight of new information, and there was the small matter of the deranged detective scampering along behind her. She was sure she'd seen him before, but it may just have been a memory of watching Rush Hour 2.
An elderly lady turned the corner in front of her, pushing a small child's pram. Nina leapt clean over it and kicked out behind her, sending the pram and child tumbling to the ground. If she'd had a few seconds to spare, Nina might have considered making an apology.
Well, maybe.
The diversion worked; her pursuer, being a 'good guy', couldn't resist lending a hand, and only gave up when the crazed old bat started beating him over the head with her Audrey Hepburn-decorated handbag. By then it was too late, as Nina had already sprinted down one of the city's innumerable back-alleys. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the dim-witted oaf sped past Nina's hiding spot, and once his rapid footsteps had diminished to sub-audible levels, Nina slumped back against a wall and slid down to the ground. Today had been one helluva rough morning.
~Flashback to the night before~
As the sun dimmed in the sky and the city suddenly came alive with neon lights and bustling partygoers, a lone Mercedes pulled up in front of one of the cheaper hotels in this part of the city. The faded red brickwork and unwashed windows contrasted sharply with the metallic silver bodywork and sleek alloys on the car.
A lone figure stepped out from the driver's side; tall, thin, obviously feminine with platinum-blonde hair pulled back into a single short ponytail, dark eyes hidden behind pink sunglasses. She wore a fairly large coat, which completely covered her outfit, except for the knee-length white boots with stiletto heels.
Nina leaned down to the driver's window. "Now, I'd really appreciate it if you brought this back in one piece."
Another person, another woman, replied from inside. "Hey, do I look like an idiot?"
Nina smiled. "You don't really want me to answer that, surely?"
"Oh, shut up!" the other woman's voice was tinged with humour. "I'm just going to be taking a tour around the clubs."
"That's what I'm afraid of. Don't have too much fun without me."
"I'll try. See ya tomorrow!"
The car drove off in the direction of the lights. Nina watched it go for a few seconds before moving inside the building in front of her. The lobby was jus about as ugly as the exterior, and came complete with the obligatory balding receptionist in his mid-sixties. Nina sauntered over to the desk, watching her step all the way.
"Hi," she said in fluent Cantonese, though she couldn't shake her normal accent, "Do you have any vacancies for one?"
~Later that night~
Having done what little unpacking was required, Nina opened her laptop and hooked up to the room's phone line with a portable modem. Her current employers had left a file on the new target at one of her many e-mail addresses. Checking her 'favourites' list, she found the correct URL and clicked 'Log In'
Username: 'FoxXxYChic32' Password: 'Bad_Habit'
Indeed, there was the file, disguised under the name of 'Get a better life insurance deal.' and sent from "TenchiGuy101". Either a random name, or that of a newly-departed techno geek who met with an unfortunate accident for the convenience of her employers. The file opened automatically with the e-mail (which was blank) and popped up in a new window. A full-body image of the target appeared, complete with spiked blonde hair and odd scar on the left arm. This picture came from the target's sporting days, hence the ridiculous union jack shorts. If it hadn't been related to business, Nina would have laughed.
The file contained virtually every detail of the target's entire life; Nina hoped she might find one of these about herself one day. It would certainly clear up a few details.
"Name: Steve Fox. Age: 21. Nationality: British."
I never would have guessed, thought Nina dryly.
"Currently adopted. Adoptive parents located in England, name and exact whereabouts are unconfirmed."
Well, at least they don't know everything, Nina thought, not that it was much of a relief. When this was over, she'd have to start picking her clients better.
"Birth father: N/A. Birth Mother: Name unknown. Mother was a subject in a cryogenic stasis experiment."
Nina's eyes widened.
".At the Mishima Zaibatsu Research Laboratories."
If Nina hadn't known better she would have sworn that lightning struck outside the room's window just as she finished reading that sentence. She sat in silence for a long time, before hesitantly reaching for her mobile phone and going for speed-dial one.
There were a few seconds of silence as the ringing tone played out through the receiver, before there was a soft click and a voice came down the line, muffled music and cheering in the background.
"I thought you said we weren't supposed to contact one another."
Nina sighed. "I know, I know, but this is important."
"How important? I'm in the middle of a game here."
"Very. You know that little job I've got going for tomorrow?"
"Yes?"
"There's been a development."
Nina repeated the information from the file down the phone. The person on the other end sounded as if she was trying not to laugh.
"You-you've got to be kidding!"
"No. What am I gonna do now?"
"Why are you asking me? I've never been in that situation."
"Oh, I doubt that."
"HEY! You'd better take that back, or I'll come over there and."
".Get your pretty face kicked in?"
The other woman was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I hate it when you're right."
Nina chuckled slightly. Trust the ones closest to you to cheer you up, if nothing else.
~Back to the present~
Nina started awake, shaking her head. How long had she been out for? For all she knew, she could have woken up in a cop car, or even down at the station itself.
Sloppy, girl, her mind whispered, you're getting too complacent.
"Oh, shut up." Nina mumbled out loud, before looking out at the street. Although she remembered seeing the cop stumble away, he could have called in backup and had the street staked out by now. Judging by her watch, she had been dreaming for three-quarters of an hour. Thankfully, no police cars or cops were in sight. Neither was the target. A silver Merc had pulled up at one side of the street, drawing no attention from the crowds and other drivers. Moving swiftly, yet without making too much noise, Nina emerged from her hiding spot and crossed the road, opening one of the car's passenger doors and sliding in, closing it behind her.
The driver turned around. "Good lord, what is that stink?"
Nina sniffed the air, before recoiling and waving a hand in front of her face. "Aww Christ.when did alleys become so dirty? First chance I get, I'm taking a shower."
The driver returned her attention to the road, firing up the engine as she did so. "Now you're starting to sound like me. You're supposed to be the tough one, remember?"
Nina nodded. "True enough, sis, but I'm not totally brain-dead yet. Give it a couple of years. Oh, and Anna."
The driver turned around again, raising one well-pencilled eyebrow up to the brim of her zebra-design furry hat.
"Thanks. Really." Nina stuck out her hand.
Anna smirked. "I am not falling for that again."
*******
Ending Number 4.0: Combot
Some say that heroes are born, not made. If the capacity crowd in the national stadium, once used solely for baseball but now hosting the final of the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4, they couldn't be more wrong.
While the first participant for the night's main event, the tournament's 'reigning champion' Heihachi Mishima, waited in the ring, going through several warm-up exercises and being booed by the crowd, an oddly- proportioned figure was backstage, skipping and shadowboxing under the watchful eye of a silver-haired man in a purple-tinged suit. There were no words between the two, but the business man seemed to radiate a sense of pride toward the other, whose only sounds were that of straining servomotors and humming batteries.
A tournament official approached. "It's time."
The door in front of Combot opened, and he strode out in front of the crowd, adopting the same purposeful walk as the fighter with the peculiar eye and spiked hair. The fans in the crowd who had been following the tournament from the beginning, and the eliminated fighters, some of which Combot had himself previously defeated, knew what to expect and were not disappointed; those who had only just arrived or tuned in for the final were in for a surprise.
The warrior who came to face Heihachi was not a massively muscled figure of power; not a Bruce Lee-alike being of superior grace and intelligence; instead, what emerged from the lit tunnel was, for all intents and purposes, a rather daft-looking robot. Some in the crowd laughed; most cheered; ladies blew wolf-whistles; and the eliminated fighters simply clapped.
Combot could feel the energy in the arena. He knew that his sole objective tonight was to defeat the aging target with the spiked grey hair and odd sense in clothing, but the volume of the crowd chanting his identification noun over and over made him rethink his battle plan. He needed to make it look good for those who were watching.
And so he stood stock-still, flipping mentally through many files in his mind. He had been unable to previously study the technique of his opponents, but Master Lee had added some information to his files regarding the target. It seemed that 'Heiahchi' used a similar technique as the subject identified as 'Kazuya', which meant that he implemented many powerful yet simple combo attacks and devastating single-hit attacks. This technique did not include many specialised forms of defence other than the standard blocking movements, so Combot decided that using a technique with greater speed would provide the best possibility of success. Having considered this, Combot selected the recorded technique file of combatant number 008, identified as 'Marshall Law'. Immediately, his motors kicked in and Combot began an odd skipping movement on the spot.
All of this happened in less than a second.
Another official off at the side glanced at both combatants, threw a handful of salt between them, and spoke into a microphone.
"Round One."
Heihachi tensed.
".FIGHT!"
Heihachi charged immediately. This came as no surprise to Combot, who had noted the anger etched on the face of his opponent and the similar rage possessed by subject 'Kazuya'. Naturally, this allowed Combot the possibility of a counter, which he delivered in the form of a swift kick to his opponent's chin, catching the elder Mishima off-balance and toppling him. Combot briefly considered pressing the attack on the grounded opponent, but his advanced A.L.U rejected the idea; the target was still comparatively strong.
Quicker than Combot expected for a man of his age, Heihachi sprung to his feet, attempting to sweep-kick Combot's legs out from under him. Combot hopped over the recovery strike and used his right arm to hook-punch the target in the side of the jaw, no doubt dislodging some teeth. The target remained standing however, and promptly crouched under Combot's slightly misjudged left high kick before springing up in an amazingly powerful uppercut strike, knocking Combot through the air. Combot remained stunned for only a half-second before righting himself and landing on his feet. Looking up, he saw Heihachi once again try to close the distance between them, but Combot was more than ready. As Heihachi reached striking distance, Combot sprung up and over backwards, catching the target in the head with both feet and landing safely. Target fell again, this time struggling to regain his footing. The anger was gone from his face, replaced by confusion. Combot acknowledged this as understandable; subject's psychology files and background revealed an oversized ego and a considerable winning streak, and subject was widely acknowledged as one of the better, if not the best of, Iron Fist competitors. Not that such status would deter Combot from his objective. Swiftly crossing the gap between the two, Combot searched his memory for a more suitable close-range style, and found it in the shape of a form of wrestling belonging to subject 010, identified as 'King'. A title which Combot hoped to live up to.
When in range, Combot swiftly grabbed Heihachi's left arm and turned sharply, bringing the old man down on his back, hard. Immediately, Combot picked the dazed target from the floor and lifted him up and over backward, cracking the back of his head against the ground. Combot flipped all the way over backward, grabbing the target around the waist, and once again lifted him off the ground and down on his head. Then Combot scrambled to his feet and lifted Heihachi from the floor by the waist, lifting him up to Combot's head height before crashing him back down on his back. The crowd, sensing that the end was near, chanted ever louder as Combot grabbed hold of both of the target's feet and began to spin around, once, twice, about five times, before abruptly letting go of the target. Heihachi was sent flying straight at one of the steel mesh walls surrounding the ring, cracking his spine off one of the support beams. Heiahchi was out before he touched the floor.
The walls descended and Combot raised his arms to the crowd, as he had seen multiple fighters do over the course of the tournament, and the crowd - his crowd - cheered for him. He was the champion. He was the superior model.
Combot heard a soft clapping behind him and turned to see Master Lee stepping toward him, a broad grin on his face.
"You did well, Combot." The Master's praise was welcome but unnecessary. Lee stepped toward Combot, spreading his arms to the side.
Facial expressions and speech were beyond Combot's articulation, but he clapped and stepped toward Master Lee with arms outstretched, imitating him perfectly.
"Now, the world is mine for the taking!" Master Lee's words meant nothing to Combot; he functioned to serve.
Just as Master Lee drew close, several alarms went off inside Combot's cerebro-circuitry.
DANGER: Security Locks Inactive. System Fault. Reboot or risk shorted circuitry.
Unfortunately, Combot was helpless to prevent what came next, as Master Lee was suddenly set as primary target. And Combot moved.
The out-of-control machine grabbed Lee by his collar and dragged him across his knee and slapping him several times on the rear, knocking him down with the last strike. As Lee lay in a heap, Combot performed several taunting gestures compiled from various files, before unclipping a small device from his waist, which extended to become an odd-looking sword as Combot accessed another memory file; subject 012, identified as 'Yoshimitsu'. Drawing the sword back, Combot increased the power supply to the implement as he drew closer to the downed figure of Master Lee, preparing to terminate the target.
As he tried to bring the sword down, he found his arm to be immobile. Running a quick self-diagnostic, he noted that no faults were detected within the limb's circuitry, which left only one reasonable alternative - outside interference.
Glancing back at his arm, he saw several fighters, identified as 'King', 'Paul Phoenix' and 'Steve Fox' attempting to wrestle the weapon from his grip. An exercise in futility - the weapon was attached by powerful electromagnets, which would only deactivate if Combot willed them to do so, or if Combot became inoperable. Neither was likely to happen anytime soon.
As if sensing the futility of their actions, the fighters employed a different tactic. 'Steve Fox' and a new subject, identified as 'Hwoarang' attached themselves to Combot's legs, while 'Paul Phoenix' gestured at someone invisible to Combot. Combot was about to shake the ridiculous men from his limbs when something connected with the back of his neck, severing the wiring and decapitating the CPU. Combot had just enough time to note that the attack was not visible to him before his electronic brain failed him.
Standing over the fallen machine, Paul Phoenix spat on the ground.
"Never trust somethin' that don't drink heavy."
"Your sentiments are quite amusing."
Paul glanced at the green-eyed ninja standing beside him. "I never knew you spoke."
"The same could be said of you." The ninja's reply did not sound in the least bit humorous, though his eyes glinted slightly.
"Right." Paul rolled his eyes. He'd had enough alien talk for one night. He stepped over to Steve and the Korean, who were helping a dazed Lee to his feet.
"Congrats, genius," said Steve, grinning broadly, "you've created a homicidal maniac!"
"Yes." Lee nodded as he stared down at his creation. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."
*******
Author's Note: Jesus, did I write all that? I've lost track of the time again. Sorry for taking a while for this update, but I just finished my prelim exams and schoolwork's kinda eating up my time. Plus, there's Christmas to worry about. Don't worry, I'll have chapter three up in time for the festive season's real start. Next time, it's Kazuya and King. Miss it - Miss nothing! Sayonara,
Microwave Jockey
The Brothers Mishima: Thanks for the compliments. And yes, despite Namco's efforts to claim the contrary, Lee at least looks homosexual. But personally, I think him and Nina make a nice couple. Not that I'll be delving any further into that relationship in this fic.
Spifferfish: Love the name, dude. And thanks, it's nice to know I'm keeping this site alive.
And ho-ho-ho, on with the show!
*******
Ending Number 3.0: Nina Williams
The people of Hong Kong were used to odd sites. Being as close to Japan as it was, it was home to many an anime convention or giant robot/dinosaur parade; and the British's influence had left a mark, in the shape of more Western fast-food joints and lager brands than the average citizen could shake a child's toy lightsaber at. Heck, most people wouldn't even blink if Godzilla came to town. So it wasn't much of a surprise that nobody paid much attention to the miniature chase developing in the uptown district where all the big corporation's HQs were located.
Nina ran as fast as she possibly could, keeping her eyes in front of her. Her head throbbed with the weight of new information, and there was the small matter of the deranged detective scampering along behind her. She was sure she'd seen him before, but it may just have been a memory of watching Rush Hour 2.
An elderly lady turned the corner in front of her, pushing a small child's pram. Nina leapt clean over it and kicked out behind her, sending the pram and child tumbling to the ground. If she'd had a few seconds to spare, Nina might have considered making an apology.
Well, maybe.
The diversion worked; her pursuer, being a 'good guy', couldn't resist lending a hand, and only gave up when the crazed old bat started beating him over the head with her Audrey Hepburn-decorated handbag. By then it was too late, as Nina had already sprinted down one of the city's innumerable back-alleys. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the dim-witted oaf sped past Nina's hiding spot, and once his rapid footsteps had diminished to sub-audible levels, Nina slumped back against a wall and slid down to the ground. Today had been one helluva rough morning.
~Flashback to the night before~
As the sun dimmed in the sky and the city suddenly came alive with neon lights and bustling partygoers, a lone Mercedes pulled up in front of one of the cheaper hotels in this part of the city. The faded red brickwork and unwashed windows contrasted sharply with the metallic silver bodywork and sleek alloys on the car.
A lone figure stepped out from the driver's side; tall, thin, obviously feminine with platinum-blonde hair pulled back into a single short ponytail, dark eyes hidden behind pink sunglasses. She wore a fairly large coat, which completely covered her outfit, except for the knee-length white boots with stiletto heels.
Nina leaned down to the driver's window. "Now, I'd really appreciate it if you brought this back in one piece."
Another person, another woman, replied from inside. "Hey, do I look like an idiot?"
Nina smiled. "You don't really want me to answer that, surely?"
"Oh, shut up!" the other woman's voice was tinged with humour. "I'm just going to be taking a tour around the clubs."
"That's what I'm afraid of. Don't have too much fun without me."
"I'll try. See ya tomorrow!"
The car drove off in the direction of the lights. Nina watched it go for a few seconds before moving inside the building in front of her. The lobby was jus about as ugly as the exterior, and came complete with the obligatory balding receptionist in his mid-sixties. Nina sauntered over to the desk, watching her step all the way.
"Hi," she said in fluent Cantonese, though she couldn't shake her normal accent, "Do you have any vacancies for one?"
~Later that night~
Having done what little unpacking was required, Nina opened her laptop and hooked up to the room's phone line with a portable modem. Her current employers had left a file on the new target at one of her many e-mail addresses. Checking her 'favourites' list, she found the correct URL and clicked 'Log In'
Username: 'FoxXxYChic32' Password: 'Bad_Habit'
Indeed, there was the file, disguised under the name of 'Get a better life insurance deal.' and sent from "TenchiGuy101". Either a random name, or that of a newly-departed techno geek who met with an unfortunate accident for the convenience of her employers. The file opened automatically with the e-mail (which was blank) and popped up in a new window. A full-body image of the target appeared, complete with spiked blonde hair and odd scar on the left arm. This picture came from the target's sporting days, hence the ridiculous union jack shorts. If it hadn't been related to business, Nina would have laughed.
The file contained virtually every detail of the target's entire life; Nina hoped she might find one of these about herself one day. It would certainly clear up a few details.
"Name: Steve Fox. Age: 21. Nationality: British."
I never would have guessed, thought Nina dryly.
"Currently adopted. Adoptive parents located in England, name and exact whereabouts are unconfirmed."
Well, at least they don't know everything, Nina thought, not that it was much of a relief. When this was over, she'd have to start picking her clients better.
"Birth father: N/A. Birth Mother: Name unknown. Mother was a subject in a cryogenic stasis experiment."
Nina's eyes widened.
".At the Mishima Zaibatsu Research Laboratories."
If Nina hadn't known better she would have sworn that lightning struck outside the room's window just as she finished reading that sentence. She sat in silence for a long time, before hesitantly reaching for her mobile phone and going for speed-dial one.
There were a few seconds of silence as the ringing tone played out through the receiver, before there was a soft click and a voice came down the line, muffled music and cheering in the background.
"I thought you said we weren't supposed to contact one another."
Nina sighed. "I know, I know, but this is important."
"How important? I'm in the middle of a game here."
"Very. You know that little job I've got going for tomorrow?"
"Yes?"
"There's been a development."
Nina repeated the information from the file down the phone. The person on the other end sounded as if she was trying not to laugh.
"You-you've got to be kidding!"
"No. What am I gonna do now?"
"Why are you asking me? I've never been in that situation."
"Oh, I doubt that."
"HEY! You'd better take that back, or I'll come over there and."
".Get your pretty face kicked in?"
The other woman was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I hate it when you're right."
Nina chuckled slightly. Trust the ones closest to you to cheer you up, if nothing else.
~Back to the present~
Nina started awake, shaking her head. How long had she been out for? For all she knew, she could have woken up in a cop car, or even down at the station itself.
Sloppy, girl, her mind whispered, you're getting too complacent.
"Oh, shut up." Nina mumbled out loud, before looking out at the street. Although she remembered seeing the cop stumble away, he could have called in backup and had the street staked out by now. Judging by her watch, she had been dreaming for three-quarters of an hour. Thankfully, no police cars or cops were in sight. Neither was the target. A silver Merc had pulled up at one side of the street, drawing no attention from the crowds and other drivers. Moving swiftly, yet without making too much noise, Nina emerged from her hiding spot and crossed the road, opening one of the car's passenger doors and sliding in, closing it behind her.
The driver turned around. "Good lord, what is that stink?"
Nina sniffed the air, before recoiling and waving a hand in front of her face. "Aww Christ.when did alleys become so dirty? First chance I get, I'm taking a shower."
The driver returned her attention to the road, firing up the engine as she did so. "Now you're starting to sound like me. You're supposed to be the tough one, remember?"
Nina nodded. "True enough, sis, but I'm not totally brain-dead yet. Give it a couple of years. Oh, and Anna."
The driver turned around again, raising one well-pencilled eyebrow up to the brim of her zebra-design furry hat.
"Thanks. Really." Nina stuck out her hand.
Anna smirked. "I am not falling for that again."
*******
Ending Number 4.0: Combot
Some say that heroes are born, not made. If the capacity crowd in the national stadium, once used solely for baseball but now hosting the final of the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4, they couldn't be more wrong.
While the first participant for the night's main event, the tournament's 'reigning champion' Heihachi Mishima, waited in the ring, going through several warm-up exercises and being booed by the crowd, an oddly- proportioned figure was backstage, skipping and shadowboxing under the watchful eye of a silver-haired man in a purple-tinged suit. There were no words between the two, but the business man seemed to radiate a sense of pride toward the other, whose only sounds were that of straining servomotors and humming batteries.
A tournament official approached. "It's time."
The door in front of Combot opened, and he strode out in front of the crowd, adopting the same purposeful walk as the fighter with the peculiar eye and spiked hair. The fans in the crowd who had been following the tournament from the beginning, and the eliminated fighters, some of which Combot had himself previously defeated, knew what to expect and were not disappointed; those who had only just arrived or tuned in for the final were in for a surprise.
The warrior who came to face Heihachi was not a massively muscled figure of power; not a Bruce Lee-alike being of superior grace and intelligence; instead, what emerged from the lit tunnel was, for all intents and purposes, a rather daft-looking robot. Some in the crowd laughed; most cheered; ladies blew wolf-whistles; and the eliminated fighters simply clapped.
Combot could feel the energy in the arena. He knew that his sole objective tonight was to defeat the aging target with the spiked grey hair and odd sense in clothing, but the volume of the crowd chanting his identification noun over and over made him rethink his battle plan. He needed to make it look good for those who were watching.
And so he stood stock-still, flipping mentally through many files in his mind. He had been unable to previously study the technique of his opponents, but Master Lee had added some information to his files regarding the target. It seemed that 'Heiahchi' used a similar technique as the subject identified as 'Kazuya', which meant that he implemented many powerful yet simple combo attacks and devastating single-hit attacks. This technique did not include many specialised forms of defence other than the standard blocking movements, so Combot decided that using a technique with greater speed would provide the best possibility of success. Having considered this, Combot selected the recorded technique file of combatant number 008, identified as 'Marshall Law'. Immediately, his motors kicked in and Combot began an odd skipping movement on the spot.
All of this happened in less than a second.
Another official off at the side glanced at both combatants, threw a handful of salt between them, and spoke into a microphone.
"Round One."
Heihachi tensed.
".FIGHT!"
Heihachi charged immediately. This came as no surprise to Combot, who had noted the anger etched on the face of his opponent and the similar rage possessed by subject 'Kazuya'. Naturally, this allowed Combot the possibility of a counter, which he delivered in the form of a swift kick to his opponent's chin, catching the elder Mishima off-balance and toppling him. Combot briefly considered pressing the attack on the grounded opponent, but his advanced A.L.U rejected the idea; the target was still comparatively strong.
Quicker than Combot expected for a man of his age, Heihachi sprung to his feet, attempting to sweep-kick Combot's legs out from under him. Combot hopped over the recovery strike and used his right arm to hook-punch the target in the side of the jaw, no doubt dislodging some teeth. The target remained standing however, and promptly crouched under Combot's slightly misjudged left high kick before springing up in an amazingly powerful uppercut strike, knocking Combot through the air. Combot remained stunned for only a half-second before righting himself and landing on his feet. Looking up, he saw Heihachi once again try to close the distance between them, but Combot was more than ready. As Heihachi reached striking distance, Combot sprung up and over backwards, catching the target in the head with both feet and landing safely. Target fell again, this time struggling to regain his footing. The anger was gone from his face, replaced by confusion. Combot acknowledged this as understandable; subject's psychology files and background revealed an oversized ego and a considerable winning streak, and subject was widely acknowledged as one of the better, if not the best of, Iron Fist competitors. Not that such status would deter Combot from his objective. Swiftly crossing the gap between the two, Combot searched his memory for a more suitable close-range style, and found it in the shape of a form of wrestling belonging to subject 010, identified as 'King'. A title which Combot hoped to live up to.
When in range, Combot swiftly grabbed Heihachi's left arm and turned sharply, bringing the old man down on his back, hard. Immediately, Combot picked the dazed target from the floor and lifted him up and over backward, cracking the back of his head against the ground. Combot flipped all the way over backward, grabbing the target around the waist, and once again lifted him off the ground and down on his head. Then Combot scrambled to his feet and lifted Heihachi from the floor by the waist, lifting him up to Combot's head height before crashing him back down on his back. The crowd, sensing that the end was near, chanted ever louder as Combot grabbed hold of both of the target's feet and began to spin around, once, twice, about five times, before abruptly letting go of the target. Heihachi was sent flying straight at one of the steel mesh walls surrounding the ring, cracking his spine off one of the support beams. Heiahchi was out before he touched the floor.
The walls descended and Combot raised his arms to the crowd, as he had seen multiple fighters do over the course of the tournament, and the crowd - his crowd - cheered for him. He was the champion. He was the superior model.
Combot heard a soft clapping behind him and turned to see Master Lee stepping toward him, a broad grin on his face.
"You did well, Combot." The Master's praise was welcome but unnecessary. Lee stepped toward Combot, spreading his arms to the side.
Facial expressions and speech were beyond Combot's articulation, but he clapped and stepped toward Master Lee with arms outstretched, imitating him perfectly.
"Now, the world is mine for the taking!" Master Lee's words meant nothing to Combot; he functioned to serve.
Just as Master Lee drew close, several alarms went off inside Combot's cerebro-circuitry.
DANGER: Security Locks Inactive. System Fault. Reboot or risk shorted circuitry.
Unfortunately, Combot was helpless to prevent what came next, as Master Lee was suddenly set as primary target. And Combot moved.
The out-of-control machine grabbed Lee by his collar and dragged him across his knee and slapping him several times on the rear, knocking him down with the last strike. As Lee lay in a heap, Combot performed several taunting gestures compiled from various files, before unclipping a small device from his waist, which extended to become an odd-looking sword as Combot accessed another memory file; subject 012, identified as 'Yoshimitsu'. Drawing the sword back, Combot increased the power supply to the implement as he drew closer to the downed figure of Master Lee, preparing to terminate the target.
As he tried to bring the sword down, he found his arm to be immobile. Running a quick self-diagnostic, he noted that no faults were detected within the limb's circuitry, which left only one reasonable alternative - outside interference.
Glancing back at his arm, he saw several fighters, identified as 'King', 'Paul Phoenix' and 'Steve Fox' attempting to wrestle the weapon from his grip. An exercise in futility - the weapon was attached by powerful electromagnets, which would only deactivate if Combot willed them to do so, or if Combot became inoperable. Neither was likely to happen anytime soon.
As if sensing the futility of their actions, the fighters employed a different tactic. 'Steve Fox' and a new subject, identified as 'Hwoarang' attached themselves to Combot's legs, while 'Paul Phoenix' gestured at someone invisible to Combot. Combot was about to shake the ridiculous men from his limbs when something connected with the back of his neck, severing the wiring and decapitating the CPU. Combot had just enough time to note that the attack was not visible to him before his electronic brain failed him.
Standing over the fallen machine, Paul Phoenix spat on the ground.
"Never trust somethin' that don't drink heavy."
"Your sentiments are quite amusing."
Paul glanced at the green-eyed ninja standing beside him. "I never knew you spoke."
"The same could be said of you." The ninja's reply did not sound in the least bit humorous, though his eyes glinted slightly.
"Right." Paul rolled his eyes. He'd had enough alien talk for one night. He stepped over to Steve and the Korean, who were helping a dazed Lee to his feet.
"Congrats, genius," said Steve, grinning broadly, "you've created a homicidal maniac!"
"Yes." Lee nodded as he stared down at his creation. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."
*******
Author's Note: Jesus, did I write all that? I've lost track of the time again. Sorry for taking a while for this update, but I just finished my prelim exams and schoolwork's kinda eating up my time. Plus, there's Christmas to worry about. Don't worry, I'll have chapter three up in time for the festive season's real start. Next time, it's Kazuya and King. Miss it - Miss nothing! Sayonara,
Microwave Jockey