What do you want from me?
"He is as granite. I have not encountered such a man before," my voice washes through the darkness, receiving no response from the man that sits before me. He remains focussed upon the candle, although it no longer burns. I study him again, through the blackness, and feel my one-time ally, my other half, my opposite and equal, returning the scrutiny. I see how he grasps at his host, digging claws deep into the heart of his soul, but I can see that he will never truly possess that which he so desires. After all, how could anyone hold an ocean in their hands? His hostility burns at me across the boards of the floor, invisible in the pitch black, but my mind can see the fiery tendrils of anger snaking towards me, and I gaze challengingly where the eye of my nemesis rests at the centre of the tortured man's brow. He whispers through the man's thoughts, reassuring, boasting, and all the while trying to infuse him with the same animosity he feels for me, but the man has none left to give.
He lifts his eyes to meet mine, seeing without seeing, in the dark. "You believe I cannot defeat him," his voice rumbles across the room to meet me, a barely audible whisper, yet crushingly loud in the stillness of the dojo. The demon stirs, shifting inside him, hissing its discontent, blaming me for his inability to control his host's heart.
No smile graces my lips when I see that I unsettle him in this manner. Only pain pierces me, that I should have become an object of such hatred to one I had held so close. I focus myself upon the man, but the swirling blackness of emotion within him shines to me like a diamond in the sunlight, and for an instant I can understand why my brother would seek to immerse himself in such a pool. I direct my sight instead to the rafters, following the tiny effervescence of life of the arachnid that dwells there in the shadows. "Life is such a beautiful thing, so fragile. That you would give up the chance to live briefly in the light, so that you may spend eternity in our darkness… I cannot comprehend."
I feel Kazuya's eyes still fixed upon me, feel him willing me to face him once more. His will is like that of a child begging for a mother's attention, and yet like a master's, challenging his subordinate to have courage and stand up to him. He rises to his feet, standing close to me, leaning in so that I feel his breath upon my cheek. When he speaks again, his voice is no longer a soft rumble, but an assured tide of powerful sound, clear and precise. It is a voice that compels the listener to obey. He says to me, "Though ancient, your wisdom is not infinite. All that is life is not light. You cannot change me."
Facing him, I meet his challenging eyes, feeling the unsubstantial touch of his clothing against mine in the blackness. Raising feathered wings into the air, I bring illumination to his shadowy features, so near to my own. I force the radiance of my spirit into every far reaching corner of the room, banishing the darkness and engulfing the man before me in the light of daybreak, encircling him with my shielding wings, burning my energy into him. "You, human, cannot control me," I tell him, my voice no longer the softness of a woman, but the echoing of a thousand voices of a thousand heavenly spirits, speaking from a place no mortal shall ever conceive. I hold his gaze for a moment, the black pools of his eyes the only twilight I cannot eradicate.
Retreating, I draw the light back within myself, leaving only the dancing flame of the newly lit candle to show myself to Kazuya. I turn and make my way to the door, reaching for the handle when I hear his voice. "He will bring much suffering, much pain and darkness with him. I do not demand your council; I only ask that you would offer it freely."
I pause, listening to the solemn tones with which he speaks. "We shall see," I murmur, the door closing silently behind me.
The intruder raises his hands without question as soon as he feels the cold metal of the barrel of the gun pressing into the back of his skull. "You're good, Miss Williams," he chuckles. Nina gives an almost invisible cringe at the sound of his brash, Californian accent. She abhors Californians, but unfortunately they have no qualms paying large sums off money to have each other 'taken care of'.
"What do you want, Travis?" she sighs, lowering the gun.
The man turns to face her, gives her the once-over, and flashes a toothy grin. "Lookin' good, babe!" He tosses his head appraisingly, his glossy dark hair shining under the electric lights. When the young assassin gives only a pointed look in response, he re-directs his eyes to the rest of the room. Uneasy with the fact that the woman still has the weapon in hand, he flaunts another, less tooth-filled smile and wanders over to the windows. "Why'd you keep the blinds closed? It's a gorgeous day outside!" he enthuses, pulling on the cord. As the blind shoots up, bright sunlight blazes into the small room.
"I like my privacy," Nina informs him, walking over to the window and gesturing across to the building opposite. A middle-aged man can be seen running on a treadmill, and at another window a pair of young boys are visible fighting over a comic book of some kind. She pulls the blind down again and turns to look directly at Travis. "I asked you a question."
"Straight to business with you…" Travis groans, reaching into his jacket. "Here, a package arrived for you. I think it's another overseas job, Japan?" Taking the package, Nina narrows her eyes at him. "I didn't read it, babe. You know I wouldn't do that," he says, reading her thoughts.
"You can show yourself out," she says, her melodic Celtic tones clipped, as she turns her back on him, heading over to her desk.
"Aite, I'll just be goin' then…" the man says, ruffling his hair awkwardly, and then making his way dejectedly out the door when she gives no further reaction.
Hearing the door click shut behind her, Nina pulls a knife from the rack and sits herself at the breakfast bar, slicing open the package and slipping the contents onto the worktop. The first thing to catch her attention is a flyer bearing the heading "Tekken" across the top in bold letters. Nina frowns to herself, 'another tournament…' She riffles through the rest of the material, finding plane tickets for that afternoon, direct to Tokyo. And of course the contract, taken out against Kazuya Mishima. A hit she had failed to make two years ago. Now she has a chance to even the score. She will not allow herself to be distracted again. She will not fail.
She picks up the tournament leaflet again, flicking through the glossy pages, passing numerous articles on the grandeur of the Mishima Zaibatsu, and on the vast sum of money being offered as a prize this time around. A little extra money would be nice too. She comes to rest on the photographs of participants from the last tournament, and of the corporate heads. There is that slimy creep, Chaolan, and beside him, shadowing the silver-haired devil completely, stands her target. She allows her eyes to linger on his image, taking in the muscular build, the costly tailoring, the sharp features, and the rich black sweep of hair rising in a peak behind his head. She studies his well-set posture, the expensive links on his cuffs, the arch of his heavy brows, and the intense black of his eyes. She recollects the powerful blows he strikes, the force of his fist hitting her chest, and the feeling of being thrown through the air by such an incredible strength…Kazuya Mishima.
She rubs the back of her neck with her long, delicate fingers, and leafs over to the next page, to meet eyes not entirely unlike her own. 'Anna.' She grinds her teeth for an instant, before catching herself and remembering the cost of her dental work. Time to pay her younger sister a visit. Getting up, she proceeds into the bedroom, taking little time to throw a few select outfits into a hold all. In the bathroom, she again lifts the lipstick to her mouth, brushing on the rich red substance. Blowing a kiss to her reflection, she turns and makes her way out of the apartment.