Author's Note: OMG!!!! I totally forgot that I had not thanked shadowsin for the reviews!!! I'm really sorry you …it was super late when I wrote that last chapter and got reeeeaaaalllllllyyyyy tiiiiirrrrreeeeeeeddddd…I'm so sorry, hope you can forgive me! ::Another blond moment from me:: Anyway, hope you like this new chappie! You know the drill; Read and review please! I appreciate everyone's support!!!!

Jamie Parker's main method of travel around Tokyo was by hopping across the rooftops. However, he only did this in the dead of night when he wouldn't be caught. Unfortunately, he couldn't pull this off in the middle of broad daylight with millions of people around him.

"Although I don't think it'll matter…I mean everyone and their mother knows what a Nephilim is anyway." Jamie thought pessimistically.

The weather around him seemed to match his mood. The sky was overcast and gray, with a thick, cold, encroaching fog…still, the roads were swamped with typical Tokyo traffic. A light, freezing drizzle fell lightly on the snow soaked pavement and caused Jamie to clutch his yellow snowboarding jacket more tightly around his chest.

Truthfully, Jamie didn't want to go see Paul. He wanted to go back to the hotel and workout, or curl up by the fireplace, or go see that movie with Hwoarang and Julia…but as usual, Nephilim duties interrupted and halted any types of plans that didn't involve decapitation and demon slaughter.

Jamie looked at the handwritten directions that Julia had given him, and then studied his surroundings carefully. Hwoarang had told him that Paul's typical haunts were in a rather run down, bad section of town.

Two words: Ghetto Land.

Not that Jamie cared. He had taken on demons, and averted apocalypse countless times…he figured that he could handle a few gang bangers or whatever the mortal world could throw at him. After another half an hour of searching, he found Marshall Law's dojo…and right across the street was a rather beat up looking garage.

Graffiti peppered the crumbling building…which looked like a vintage munitions factory left over from World War II. Several cars were elevated on platforms as the mechanics milled about the open garage bays performing various tasks.

Jamie's uncle Kurt owned a fix-it shop, so Jamie knew his way around one…but he was pretty worthless when it came to fixing cars. True, he could change the oil, pump gas, and put in a new stereo…but other then that, he was lost. Unlike other guys his age, he wasn't totally obsessed with them.

He entered the shop casually, it didn't matter what part of the world that you were in, all of these kinds of shops smelled, and looked the same. The main office's walls were made of some kind of cheap, clap board. It looked like it hadn't been decorated since 1975, and hadn't been cleaned since 1991.

Various, yellowed pictures in cheap frames adorned the walls, and the air was heavy with the combined odors of car wax, and motor oil. Jamie asked the man behind the counter where he could find Paul Phoenix, to which the man so eloquently said:

"Paul? Dat crazy sunofa bitch? He's in the third bay in the back."

"Thanks." Jamie replied as he walked off.

"Wait. He don't like bein' disturbed. Whaddya wanna see him for?" The men gave Jamie a critical once over. "You his kid or sumthin'?"

Jamie was rather caught of guard at that comment. Did he look like Paul? He didn't think he did, but he supposed that their hair color and style looked similar. Still, he knew that if he had any chance of speaking with Paul he realized that he'd have to play on the man's observation.

"Close," He smiled. "I'm his nephew."

The lie seemed to satisfy the man, as he let Jamie back with no complaints.

Paul Phoenix was one of the "O.G.'s" of The King of Iron Fist Tournament. He had been around since the first tournament, and had made regular appearances ever since. He had quite a fan base, which was made primarily of bikers, and middle aged soccer moms, who had been turned onto the tournament with his rugged good looks, and bad boy image. He was defiantly the stuff which housewife fantasies were made of.

Jamie opened the door to the Back Bay, and was accosted by the strident, earsplitting whine of various machines. In the center of the room was a beautiful Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Made up of black chrome and expertly polished silver…Jamie didn't want to even fathom how much it cost.

An old school boom box on a shelf blasted '80s metal throughout the room. Currently, Autograph's Turn Up The Radio was being played. Underneath the bike, Jamie saw a pair of "Diesel" brand jeans and black boots. Paul's hands worked expertly with his tools as he tuned his bike. This went on for another minute until Paul called to him:

"So, is there a reason that you're here?"

"What?" Jamie asked in a startled voice.

He was amazed that Paul could detect his presence in the midst of the chaos that was this repair shop.

"Look, I don't have all day, and you've obviously come a long way to get here so why don't we cut to the chase and you tell me what you want." Paul said as he scooted out from under his bike.

His hair was tied back in a low ponytail much like Jamie's own. Paul wore a black t-shirt with a flaming skull emblazoned on it. The shirt was stretched taught over his chest. Blonde stubble lined his chin…he had narrow green eyes under a pair of bushy blonde eyebrows. Paul casually walked over to a sink, and began to wash his oil stained hands.

"You're Paul right?" Jamie asked lamely, trying to conjure an air of confidence and get the upper hand in the dialogue.

"Uh…yeah. And you are?" He asked with a cruel smile.

"I'm Jamie. I'm in the King of Iron Fist Tournament too," Jamie began. "Anyway, you've-"

"Yeah, I've heard about you." Paul interrupted.

"I didn't know that I had a reputation." Jamie asked with a grin.

"You're the kid who laid the smack-down on Marduk, and then Lee."

Yeah, in more ways than one…

Jamie thought to himself on the topic of Lee.

"Anyway, you had a reason to be here right? Let's hear it."

"Right, well…um," Jamie sputtered, trying to think of how to find the right words. "In the 3rd tournament, there was this kid-"

"There were lots of kids. I swear it was like a friggin' baby-sitting service during that one." Paul said as he sauntered over to the refrigerator.

"Huh?" Jamie asked.

"All these kids entered that tournament."

"And you had a problem with that?"

"Well, for one, they all went to that damn Mishima high school, so that meant that us 'grown-ups' who weren't in school had to fight them around their school schedule. And you felt kind of bad for whalin' on a boy, or girl in a school uniform." He finished as he rooted around in the 'fridge.

"Well. There was this one guy who was…special…like-"

Paul cracked open a Budweiser, and tossed a can to Jamie. The Nephilim caught it. Jamie wasn't an alcoholic or anything, but he did enjoy a beer from time to time.

"You're talking about Patrick aren't you? Patrick Morton?" Paul asked.

"Horton," Jamie corrected. "And yeah, that's who I mean." He finished, taking a sip of his beer.

"Why would you want to know about him?" Paul asked taking a swig of his beverage.

Jamie wasn't stupid…Paul was goading him; trying to get him to admit to something…Jamie didn't have time to play stupid mind games so he planned on ending them.

"Look. I think you know what Patrick was. Unnaturally strong for someone his age? Healed fast? Super endurance? All the perks that comes to being a Nephilim?"

"So that's what they call it?" Paul chuckled.

"So you know?" Jamie asked evenly.

"Well, yeah. That kid lasted a lot longer then any of us thought he would. I mean, he tore through Nina, and she's a highly trained assassin. He took Lei down, and managed to save us all when some PCP addled freaks tried to take over the hotel."

PCP huh…sounds more like vamps to me…

"So, are you related to him or something? Doing the whole vengeful brother sorta thing? Cuz if that's the case I don't have the time, and you're beef's not with me." Paul said casually.

"Well…sort of…look Paul. When a Nephilim dies…their powers are passed on…kinda like down a line y'know? Patrick was called, he died fighting Ogre, then this other guy named Mark was chosen, he died…and now, me." Jamie finished.

"Wow…that's deep. That really is…but y'know what? Not my problem." Paul said flippantly.

"Then make it your problem!" Jamie practically shouted. "Look, Patrick died trying to save all of you. He had a mission to protect the innocent and fight the forces of darkness. Now, it's my mission!"

"Then why are you here none of that shit goes on in this tournament?"

"Really? Kazuya's demon friend Devil and his lovely posse of losers known as the Fang Gang…y'know, just to name a few." Jamie finished.

"So, why do you want to talk to me?" Paul asked with his arms crossed.

"I need information. You beat a Nephilim in the tournament…and no offense, but that's not an easy feat…humans beating Nephilim. I need to know how you did it." Jamie replied.

"Wait, what do you mean exactly?" Paul asked confused.

"Blow by blow, punch by punch, kick by kick. I need to know how you beat him." Jamie asked walking forward.

"That's insane! I don't remember that? That was like, four years ago!"

"Oh I think you remember Paul. You don't seem to be the type who'd forget a match like that. I may have not been there, but I'll bet that Patrick put up one helluva fight." Jamie said, playing on Paul's ego.

"He did…that was quite a brawl, I…" Paul mused. "Anyway, why would I tell you? That's like a magician giving away his secrets."

"Paul, if I have to fight you, I'm sure it won't matter. Isn't it a cardinal rule with fighters that you never use the same technique twice?"

Silence ensued for several seconds…or as much silence as there could be in a repair shop. Finally, Paul looked up at Jamie.

"Law's dojo is right across the street. Meet me there in an hour…make sure you're well rested, cuz you're gonna need all the energy you can get." Paul said as he walked out. "Hope you're ready Jamie. I'm not gonna go easy on you just 'cause you're young. School's in session kid. Hope you're prepared."

Jamie stood alone in the garage bay, contemplating for several seconds…then; a thin smile graced his lips.

I wouldn't have it any other way…bring it on Paul!

Author's Note: Duh nuh nuh!!!!! Wuh-oh, what's gonna happen now? Who will triumph in the ensuing battle? Oh, and by the way, Paul's not a bad guy, he's just a "tough guy"…I actually like Paul…anyway, not much else to say right now. Read and Review please!!!! I luvs me some reviews!!!!! Oh, and sorry for not updating as fast as I normally do. Whenever I'd try to log in, it wouldn't let me cuz the URL or whatever was busy! But i'm back now!!!! Please Review!!!!