Once again, I do not own Tekken (or anything affiliated with it), the CIA,
or TM Revolution, or P.O.D., two much loved musical groups mentioned in
this chapter. All I own is myself. And Cheryl owns herself. Fear the
Spork!
Just to clear something up, this story was originally written in reference to things my friend Cheryl and I already know. I'll try to elaborate on "inside joke" type things, if I even notice them while I'm typing. The original also had our last names in it, but I'm leaving those out for obvious reasons O.o And this is also assuming Paul gave up the Mishima Zaibatsu after winning the tournament.
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On the plane to San Francisco, their first stop, both girls slept most of the way. It had been several hours before they arrived to switch planes. They ran to they gate they were directed to, but found that they were an hour early. They set their handbags down and sat near the gate to their non-stop flight to Tokyo's Narita Airport. They pulled out CD players and Kiley listened to TM Revolution while Cheryl listened to P.O.D.
About 10 minutes into the wait, they felt a hard -thud- on the row of benches. Kiley jolted upright and ripped her headphones from her ears thinking something was up. When she realized that all was well, she looked across the bench to a ragged-looking man with long, blonde hair, just a bit brighter than her own ash blonde locks, a scruffy but well-tamed beard, and large bushy eyebrows, looking up at the ceiling. He was wearing expensive looking leather over a white muscle-shirt as if he had just arrived from a motorbike rally in Palm Springs. Cheryl looked over to see Kiley walking toward him. She made to go after her, but decided to watch from her place on the bench. She kept her headphones off to listen in.
"Paul Phoenix?" she heard her friend ask the scraggly-looking man. This startling coincidence made her jump.
"Who wants to know?" he looked down from the ceiling at an attractive young woman, which made him immediately regret what he had just said. Kiley noted how exhausted he sounded and let it slide.
"Kiley. I'll be competing with you in the fourth King of Iron Fist Tournament." She held out her hand. Paul took a deep breath, still kicking himself for what he had said, and paused before replying.
"You're the agent then."
"Excuse me?"
"You're the agent from the CIA. They tried to hire me to do your job, but I told them I didn't want anything to interrupt my concentration on winning. Yes, I'm Paul Phoenix, by the way." He shook Kiley's still- waiting hand.
"You don't mind that Heihachi Mishima has been using illegal means to expand his empire?" Kiley retorted. Cheryl cringed at her friend's biting tone. She was afraid Paul might take offense, but still she decided to remain where she was.
"What Heihachi Mishima does or doesn't do doesn't concern me. Besides, if I went snooping around his base the way your agency wanted me to, I would've been recognized within seconds. So much for an investigation," he said matter-of-factly, not seeming to notice Kiley's earlier condescending tone at all, "I didn't think they would send a woman to the tournament though. Did they at least give you a choice?" he went on, moving over so she could sit down next to him. She ignored the sexist tone in his last statement.
"No, they didn't. In fact, my boss nearly knocked my partner and I unconscious with the paperwork." Cheryl waved upon being mentioned. Paul laughed jovially and waved back at her.
Cheryl decided to join them then, so she picked up the backpacks and carried them over to a seat across from Kiley.
"Paul Phoenix, this is my partner Cheryl. Cheryl, Paul." They greeted each other and the three continued to talk until approached by an older man of Asian descent. Paul greeted him with familiarity.
"Marshall, meet my two lovely new friends Kiley and Cheryl! Girls, this is Marshall Law; he'll also be participating in the tournament with us. I assist in managing Marshall's dojo off and on."
"I've heard your name more than a few times before, Mr. Law, but I never realized you were American." Kiley rose to shake his hand.
"I'm not. I was born in China, but I moved to San Francisco about thirty years ago. My son is a native though. He's about your age, I'd guess. You're both competing?" he finished on a side note.
"Kiley is, not me," Cheryl piped in, "I'm just here for the red-tape while she's in the tournament." Marshall and Paul chuckled.
"All the same, it'll be a pleasure traveling with you two." Marshall shook Cheryl's hand and sat down next to her. "Oh, I almost forgot!" he reached into his orange duffel bag and pulled out some boxing tape. "I knew you would forget this. I was able to get your message from Cincinnati in time. All in a rush and you forget the most important thing on the list!" Cheryl snickered at that and settled back into her seat, realizing that she was rather tired as well.
"I left mine in Manhattan." Paul explained, letting all know he was still alive. Kiley thought a moment.
"Could I borrow some of that?" she asked.
"Sure, I'll bring it to the tournament grounds and you can have as much as you need." Paul smiled at her and then rested his head against the back of the bench once more.
And so it went, with Paul and Cheryl dozing off, and Marshall and Kiley talking until it was time to board. Upon taking their seats, they discovered that they were all in the same row of four. Much to Kiley's dismay, she was seated next to Paul.
Despite his earlier exhaustion, Paul was wide-awake through the entire flight. It was Marshall that slept the day through, and soundly at that. Paul seemed to be delighted at the thought of eight hours on a plane next to the two women, but Kiley and Cheryl were most intent on studying the layout of the Mishima Compound and its guard posts.
Paul glanced over at them casually. Without realizing it, Kiley shoved his head backward. Violently. Paul was sure he heard his neck snap.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped, "It's just that these are classified documents!"
"But I've been there before!" Paul protested.
"But! Classified!"
"Well," he huffed, "I can tell you that these are all at least twenty years old."
"What!?" both girls screeched at once, disturbing more than a few of the other passengers.
"These are from the -second- tournament. They're about as worthless as those 'pearls' that woman behind us is wearing." The three heard an indignant gasp, but ignored it. "Your agency has -really- screwed you." Kiley's head fell to her knees and Cheryl smacked her forehead in frustration. Paul got an idea just then and snatched the map from Kiley's lap. "Tell you what," he smirked slyly, "I'll give you all the information I know from the third tournament which was only three years ago. I can't make any promises, but it might be the same since no one tried to go all homicidal on Heihachi that time. Well, except his grandson, but that's normal. That family's got issues." He received two blank stares. "In exchange for that and the tape, you've got to go out on a date with me." His finger rested on Kiley's nose. When she realized what he had just said, she blushed and shoved his finger away. Cheryl stared at him, almost expecting him to die any second now for touching her. Neither could answer, just gape at him. He ignored them then and gave his own answer. He winked at Kiley before pulling a red Sharpie (which I don't own!!!!) marker from his pack and began scribbling all over the previous marks and making new ones. Kiley stared at it aghast.
"There are three times as many guards than before! Oh my God, we'll never get anywhere!" she despaired.
"Not to worry," Paul's grin widened, "I refused the CIA, but since I now know my partners are such lovely young ladies, I'll help bust some entrances." He flexed a bicep making Kiley roll her eyes.
"'Bust some entrances?' Won't that get us noticed?" Cheryl asked dryly, meant to be rhetoric.
"Nah, not if we take out the guards before they can call for backup." Paul crossed his arms over his chest after handing the map back over to Cheryl, who was seeing the revisions for the first time. She whistled, astonished.
"That's going to take a lot of busting."
"It'll be okay. I've got a friend who can help us. I'm sure he'll be competing this year."
Kiley wanted to ask whom his deadbeat friend might be, but she decided that insulting the present help wouldn't be wise. They needed all the help they could get.
The next few hours were spent trying to decipher Paul's chicken scratch, in Paul's case scarfing down complimentary peanuts, and in Marshall's case sleeping. And snoring. Loudly. Paul jabbed him in the ribs a few times, but that didn't stop him.
"Probably awake," he muttered, "and laughing."
Paul began to think about Marshall's son Forrest just as the captain announced that they would be landing in a moment. He looked over at the girls who were shoving their 'important,' classified documents into their packs forcefully. Paul's eyebrows twitched slightly in annoyance.
About twenty minutes later, they were all grabbing up their hand luggage and trying to wake Marshall. When he finally roused, the plane was empty but for the four of them.
Just to clear something up, this story was originally written in reference to things my friend Cheryl and I already know. I'll try to elaborate on "inside joke" type things, if I even notice them while I'm typing. The original also had our last names in it, but I'm leaving those out for obvious reasons O.o And this is also assuming Paul gave up the Mishima Zaibatsu after winning the tournament.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
On the plane to San Francisco, their first stop, both girls slept most of the way. It had been several hours before they arrived to switch planes. They ran to they gate they were directed to, but found that they were an hour early. They set their handbags down and sat near the gate to their non-stop flight to Tokyo's Narita Airport. They pulled out CD players and Kiley listened to TM Revolution while Cheryl listened to P.O.D.
About 10 minutes into the wait, they felt a hard -thud- on the row of benches. Kiley jolted upright and ripped her headphones from her ears thinking something was up. When she realized that all was well, she looked across the bench to a ragged-looking man with long, blonde hair, just a bit brighter than her own ash blonde locks, a scruffy but well-tamed beard, and large bushy eyebrows, looking up at the ceiling. He was wearing expensive looking leather over a white muscle-shirt as if he had just arrived from a motorbike rally in Palm Springs. Cheryl looked over to see Kiley walking toward him. She made to go after her, but decided to watch from her place on the bench. She kept her headphones off to listen in.
"Paul Phoenix?" she heard her friend ask the scraggly-looking man. This startling coincidence made her jump.
"Who wants to know?" he looked down from the ceiling at an attractive young woman, which made him immediately regret what he had just said. Kiley noted how exhausted he sounded and let it slide.
"Kiley. I'll be competing with you in the fourth King of Iron Fist Tournament." She held out her hand. Paul took a deep breath, still kicking himself for what he had said, and paused before replying.
"You're the agent then."
"Excuse me?"
"You're the agent from the CIA. They tried to hire me to do your job, but I told them I didn't want anything to interrupt my concentration on winning. Yes, I'm Paul Phoenix, by the way." He shook Kiley's still- waiting hand.
"You don't mind that Heihachi Mishima has been using illegal means to expand his empire?" Kiley retorted. Cheryl cringed at her friend's biting tone. She was afraid Paul might take offense, but still she decided to remain where she was.
"What Heihachi Mishima does or doesn't do doesn't concern me. Besides, if I went snooping around his base the way your agency wanted me to, I would've been recognized within seconds. So much for an investigation," he said matter-of-factly, not seeming to notice Kiley's earlier condescending tone at all, "I didn't think they would send a woman to the tournament though. Did they at least give you a choice?" he went on, moving over so she could sit down next to him. She ignored the sexist tone in his last statement.
"No, they didn't. In fact, my boss nearly knocked my partner and I unconscious with the paperwork." Cheryl waved upon being mentioned. Paul laughed jovially and waved back at her.
Cheryl decided to join them then, so she picked up the backpacks and carried them over to a seat across from Kiley.
"Paul Phoenix, this is my partner Cheryl. Cheryl, Paul." They greeted each other and the three continued to talk until approached by an older man of Asian descent. Paul greeted him with familiarity.
"Marshall, meet my two lovely new friends Kiley and Cheryl! Girls, this is Marshall Law; he'll also be participating in the tournament with us. I assist in managing Marshall's dojo off and on."
"I've heard your name more than a few times before, Mr. Law, but I never realized you were American." Kiley rose to shake his hand.
"I'm not. I was born in China, but I moved to San Francisco about thirty years ago. My son is a native though. He's about your age, I'd guess. You're both competing?" he finished on a side note.
"Kiley is, not me," Cheryl piped in, "I'm just here for the red-tape while she's in the tournament." Marshall and Paul chuckled.
"All the same, it'll be a pleasure traveling with you two." Marshall shook Cheryl's hand and sat down next to her. "Oh, I almost forgot!" he reached into his orange duffel bag and pulled out some boxing tape. "I knew you would forget this. I was able to get your message from Cincinnati in time. All in a rush and you forget the most important thing on the list!" Cheryl snickered at that and settled back into her seat, realizing that she was rather tired as well.
"I left mine in Manhattan." Paul explained, letting all know he was still alive. Kiley thought a moment.
"Could I borrow some of that?" she asked.
"Sure, I'll bring it to the tournament grounds and you can have as much as you need." Paul smiled at her and then rested his head against the back of the bench once more.
And so it went, with Paul and Cheryl dozing off, and Marshall and Kiley talking until it was time to board. Upon taking their seats, they discovered that they were all in the same row of four. Much to Kiley's dismay, she was seated next to Paul.
Despite his earlier exhaustion, Paul was wide-awake through the entire flight. It was Marshall that slept the day through, and soundly at that. Paul seemed to be delighted at the thought of eight hours on a plane next to the two women, but Kiley and Cheryl were most intent on studying the layout of the Mishima Compound and its guard posts.
Paul glanced over at them casually. Without realizing it, Kiley shoved his head backward. Violently. Paul was sure he heard his neck snap.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped, "It's just that these are classified documents!"
"But I've been there before!" Paul protested.
"But! Classified!"
"Well," he huffed, "I can tell you that these are all at least twenty years old."
"What!?" both girls screeched at once, disturbing more than a few of the other passengers.
"These are from the -second- tournament. They're about as worthless as those 'pearls' that woman behind us is wearing." The three heard an indignant gasp, but ignored it. "Your agency has -really- screwed you." Kiley's head fell to her knees and Cheryl smacked her forehead in frustration. Paul got an idea just then and snatched the map from Kiley's lap. "Tell you what," he smirked slyly, "I'll give you all the information I know from the third tournament which was only three years ago. I can't make any promises, but it might be the same since no one tried to go all homicidal on Heihachi that time. Well, except his grandson, but that's normal. That family's got issues." He received two blank stares. "In exchange for that and the tape, you've got to go out on a date with me." His finger rested on Kiley's nose. When she realized what he had just said, she blushed and shoved his finger away. Cheryl stared at him, almost expecting him to die any second now for touching her. Neither could answer, just gape at him. He ignored them then and gave his own answer. He winked at Kiley before pulling a red Sharpie (which I don't own!!!!) marker from his pack and began scribbling all over the previous marks and making new ones. Kiley stared at it aghast.
"There are three times as many guards than before! Oh my God, we'll never get anywhere!" she despaired.
"Not to worry," Paul's grin widened, "I refused the CIA, but since I now know my partners are such lovely young ladies, I'll help bust some entrances." He flexed a bicep making Kiley roll her eyes.
"'Bust some entrances?' Won't that get us noticed?" Cheryl asked dryly, meant to be rhetoric.
"Nah, not if we take out the guards before they can call for backup." Paul crossed his arms over his chest after handing the map back over to Cheryl, who was seeing the revisions for the first time. She whistled, astonished.
"That's going to take a lot of busting."
"It'll be okay. I've got a friend who can help us. I'm sure he'll be competing this year."
Kiley wanted to ask whom his deadbeat friend might be, but she decided that insulting the present help wouldn't be wise. They needed all the help they could get.
The next few hours were spent trying to decipher Paul's chicken scratch, in Paul's case scarfing down complimentary peanuts, and in Marshall's case sleeping. And snoring. Loudly. Paul jabbed him in the ribs a few times, but that didn't stop him.
"Probably awake," he muttered, "and laughing."
Paul began to think about Marshall's son Forrest just as the captain announced that they would be landing in a moment. He looked over at the girls who were shoving their 'important,' classified documents into their packs forcefully. Paul's eyebrows twitched slightly in annoyance.
About twenty minutes later, they were all grabbing up their hand luggage and trying to wake Marshall. When he finally roused, the plane was empty but for the four of them.