Dedicated to Chlover Goddess, who loved my now dead Tekken fic and my vegetated Tekken fic 20 Words.
Also dedicated to any one who loves a good laugh.
Part One: Damn 'Spike-o-jel'
Our story starts in a random abandoned warehouse, which used to stock novelty glasses and frog plushies. Chains hung from the ceiling for no reason apart from mood setting.
For many years now, the warehouse had been used as a place to store the unwanted. Crates of old pornography, crappy wedding presents and the odd dead carcase were stock-piled in this place, right next to the oil pool and the shards of broken glass from the roof window that broke last week because little Billy from next door threw a stick at it.
Earlier that day, Jin Kazama, that strange person who seriously needs an exorcist and a shirt, was shirtlessly in a rage because he had run out of hair gel.
He had run out of the house with no shirt, looking for some way to vent his anger at his lack of industrial strength 'Spike-o-jel'. Lucifer – Prince of Darkness and supreme ruler of naughty peoples – also out of industrial strength 'Spike-o-jel'- was also rather peed off.
Thus he possessed Jin Kazama and began (with absolutely no protest from Jin) causing havoc. Acts such as loitering, feeding the animals at the zoo and, worts of all, not giving his seat to Granny Jo AND the pretty pregnant lady from down the road on the bus ride to the ice-cream shop from the new book store that opened up the other day were just some of what Luci-Jin was doing.
Around about the same time, Hwoarang, the red-headed bad-ass from Korea, was also having a bad day. He was having a difficult time grasping the concept of the Doctor Who series, a popular Science Fiction television show about and alien called a 'Time Lord' who travels through time and space in his time/space ship called the 'TARDIS', which expands to 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space' and look a lot like a Police Public Call Box from way back when.
He had spent the last week and a half watching as many episodes as his coffee percolator could brew up on an hourly rate, trying to figure out why the Doctor changes his appearance every now and again and why each Doctor never changes his clothes.
He promptly gave up once he got to the episode in which the Ninth Doctor regenerates to the Tenth Doctor because the next episode was not out on DVD yet, plus his coffee grinder had a row with his coffee percolator and they were now not talking to each other. So he went to go and see if he could get tickets to a Santana concert.
Back to the warehouse. Jin was there to find some porn so he could sell it to twelve year old boys for a tidy profit and Hwoarang was there looking for a frog plushie.
Upon seeing each other, a flurry of confetti and glitter gave way to an epic war. Not really, they just began beating the crap out of each other. And it wasn't real confetti, it was just the leftovers from Ling Xiaoyu's hole punch.
So, the two testosterone-filled young manly men exchanged kicks, punches and rude comments about a certain ritual involving Jin's mother, an albino beaver and Lucifer's three-pronged pointy stick on Hwoarang's part.
Jin was enraged. "How dare you bring Woodward, the funny, pigmentless beaver into this!"
Jin quickly wings and horns and quickly ran to the tattoo parlour to get more… tattoos that is, and began shooting at Hwoarang with his freaky laser thing. Like any normal person with no wings or horns or freaky laser things, Hwoarang was scared shitless, thus he changer his soiled garments.
After the shoray of lasers subsided (even though there is no such word as 'shoray', so replace that word with 'surge'), Hwoarang slowly emerged from behind a crate of crate-shaped crates.
"Shit man! I know I'm sexier than you, but that's no reason to kill me!"
The possessed Jin stopped in mid-world-dominating-laser-blasting.
"WHAT!"
"Ok," thought Hwoarang, "maybe not 'kill', but you were definitely trying to cause me pain and perhaps even put me in a vegetated state or coma."
Jin blinked once, and then another time. He was thinking really hard.
"You are NOT sexier than me!" he pointed an accusing finger.
It was Hwoarang's turn to blink and think.
"Yeah I am!" he shouted back.
"No!" countered Jin. "I'm sexier. I have a tattoo."
"So do I!"
"No you don't! I haven't seen it!"
"Thank God for that." Hwoarang said to himself, relieved to finally find out that Jin had not been spying on him while in the shower. "Plus, I have a motorbike, which I dangerously ride without a helmet or any other protective gear,"
"I have a sexy accent!"
"Your accent sucks, Kazama!"
"It's better than yours!"
"My accent is flawless, as is my hair!"
"Shut up! I ran out of 'Spike-o-jel'!"
"I'm an orphan!"
"I underwent extreme mental trauma!"
"I can afford shirts!"
"I have an education!"
And so it went on for hours on end, each relaying a sexy trait based on what they though was sexually appealing to the opposite sex, trying to outdo each other but neither getting the upper hand.
"Ok, tell you what." Jin said, horse voiced because I couldn't be stuffed editing that word and the gramma checker didn't pick it up. "We'll have a sex-off."
"I beg your pardon?" Hwoarang was shocked at Jin's lewd proposal.
"That's right! We'll have a competition to find out which one of us is sexier."
"Oh!"
"What did you think a 'sex-off' was?"
"I though you wanted us to go head to head in a competition to see which of us could bed the most women and have sexual intercourse with the most."
"How could you presume such a thing!" asked Jin.
"Dude, you're calling it a 'sex-off'!"
"Oh my God! I'm a perverted bastard!"
Jin spent the next fifteen minutes wailing in self-disgust and Hwoarang tried to comfort him with a thirty-foot pole.
"So the idea of this competition," continued Jin, "is to perform a series of tests to bring out aspects of our personality and physical-ness-ness, thus allowing our female judging panel to assess our performance in each task and judge which of us is more appealing, sexually, in each round, ultimately coming to a conclusion which will name one of us sexier than the other, therefore, once and for all, settling this dispute, hands down, no strings attached, end of story, never to be brought up in conversation ever again for as long as we both shall live under penalty of slow and painful torture using crude ancient methods such as the strappado, with spiky things, for ever and ever till death do us part or the universe implodes in on itself, which ever comes fist, by the laws of the Dangerously Paranormal Possessed Peoples Front of the World and the Korean Red-Heads United Association of Korea, I do so swear on my laser, Amen."
Jin gasped as he finished the lengthy sentence.
Hwoarang thought for a moment. "Alright. You're on!"
And so began the quest to find THE SEXIER COMPETITOR. Who will win?