Disclaimer – I do not own any of Team Ninja's Characters or anything else related to Dead or Alive. Also, i do not own any other various Fighting Game Characters that magically appear in this work of fiction.
Bayman struggles to keep his mass of body on the uncomfortable sofa, his arms bent behind his head on the pillow. His crossed, stubby legs are extended to the far end, his muddy boots long discarded on the floor, allowing his dirty socks to be visible. Bayman's eyes are closed in his retelling of the terrible nightmare and the DOATEC issued psychiatrist focuses closely, scribbling away on his notepad.
"You'd have to see it to believe it, but i remember it like it was yesterday. The crumbling, dead city was burning like the eternal blaze of Hades, Cerebrum himself guarding the only entrance. I remember the color red vividly. Probably because fire is red, as was the dark sky, and the sun was also...but i don't actually think the sun was out that night. Anyways, it was terrible."
"How old were you?" The psychiatrist asks, looking up from his tablet for a quick second and Bayman scrunches his forehead in thought,
"I'm pretty sure i was about ten. I only say that, because i know this was before i had sexual relations, and i got lucky way early in life!" Bayman chuckles as his ambiance transforms, "Like, in middle school. I mean, hell, the orphanage was full of sad young gals that needed cheering up." Bayman snickers and the psychiatrist raises an eyebrow,
"So your parents were killed?" Bayman's smile instantly disappears and he nods his head sullenly,
"It was horrible, doctor, as i said, i remember the color red. Red like blood. Like cherries, cherries that i experimented with in middle school. Whip cream, cherries, two Asian girls and--"
"Your parents!" The psychiatrist yells and Bayman quickly clears his throat with a nod,
"Sorry, sorry. Right, my parents. Red. My mother's red dress pulses at my heart, the charm i gave her for their anniversary still around her neck. And then my father's tie, I'm pretty sure that was red as well. It happened right in front of my eyes, my poor little young eyes."
"What happened?"
"Oh, they got gunned down by a helicopter." Bayman answers nonchalantly and then sighs, "These weren't GI Joe lasers, these were merciless rounds of bullets."
"What exactly were you all doing in this doomed city? Was this your home?" The psychiatrist asks and Bayman shakes his head with a scowl,
"Hell no. I wouldn't live in some ramshackle shantytown. This was after glasnost and the Great Successions of the USSR. My parents thought it would be a good idea to assist the people complaining that Russia wasn't their home. Like the slaves or something."
"They were killed for doing a great service?"
"I suppose so, but I'm not sure if i could take the conscientious subjector route. That i think is part of my eternal torn...ness. My implacable blood lust or following the peaceful road of my parents." Bayman sighs at a loss and the psychiatrist nods and scribbles something down.
"I think you should do whatever you think is right. Earlier, you told me about feeling regret for killing my original employer?" Bayman shrugs his shoulders,
"Yea, guess so, but that's only because Donovan is a jackass. And he tried to kill me. Fame on the other hand, he had VIP status at all the strip clubs. So who would you choose?"
"So you don't feel regret because you killed him, but because you can't get the hot Latina Chicas anymore?" The psychiatrist asks critically and Bayman growls,
"Hey, you're not supposed to make me feel bad about this! You're here to tell me which direction i should go. Good or Evil. Closed Fist or Open Palm. Darkside or Lightside. Star Jones or Roseanne! Wait..." Bayman almost gags and the psychiatrist nods his head, erasing something from his tablet and leans forwards with an intense expression,
"Okay then, i only have one more question for you." Bayman nods quickly, hoping to finally learn the answer to his eternal torture.
The psychiatrist quickly turns the tablet over and shows a drawing of two villains surrounded by fire, battling with amazing powers,
"Does this look like Demon Raidou Versus Demon Akuma!" The excited psychiatrist asks cheerfully and Bayman stands up enraged and insulted,
"Were you even listening! I'm here to learn the path i must take to save or destroy the world and you sit there doodling comics?"
Bayman rips his gun from his waistband and the psychiatrist's high pitched voice yelps in terror as Bayman knocks him to the floor, holding the gat to his head,
"Now you tell me which path i should take before i grab your plump bootied secretary and make a couple Bayman Juniors on your lumpy-ass couch!"
Shivering in fear, and fighting tears, the overpaid psychiatrist drops the tablet,
"Bayman, you should definitely turn to the path of good...starting now...by sparing me! Please!" Bayman looks at the quaking man with rage behind his eyes, but slowly nods in acquiescence The killing must stop. Sure he's a badass, but its not getting him any girls. They all like the sword swinging pretty boys anyways. It's gotta be the eyebrows that make him look mean 24/7.
"Aight, bandanna man, but I'm taking this gun." Bayman says, stepping off the still shivering tool, and studies his black handgun admiringly, "This is pretty pimp."
"It's yours, why would i care if you take it?" Bayman shoves the gun into waistband, and looks around the plainly decorated office. He looks from the picture of the useless doctor's transsexual wife to a Victoria Secret calender that he already owns, and ends on a very fancy black and red dartboard.
"Okay, then I'm taking this dartboard!" Bayman rips the circular target off the wall and then throws the picture of the man's wife with man parts to the ground, simply in disgust.
"No, thats a family heirloom!" The psychiatrist protests, still from his grounded state, but Bayman ignores his plea,
"You should of thought of that before you insulted Bayman the Magnificent. Oh, and your secretary Esperanza...shall not be spared! I cannot tell a lie, my enchirito lusts for dat Latin booty."