Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

Chapter 2

Rush Hour…

Her form in the peaceful waters reflected anything but serenity. Black patches dirtied her normally fair cheeks. The wavering waters distorted her face as her hands gently cut the surface. Using her submerged hands, she cupped as much of the blue river she could. She shut her eyes from the gathered water's hard smack to her face. She rubbed hard against her soft skin, fighting to wipe her cheeks clean of the unsettling grime.

Chocolaty eyes opened to a better reflection. She shifted her face in as many directions as she could; confirming from all angles that the dirt had been completely eradicated. She let out a breadth of air and continued to look at the wobbly mirror image of herself, her two short ponytails hanging to either side of her face. "Xiaoyu, what am I going to do with you?"

As expected, her other version did nothing but imitate her. The prickliness of the grass greeted her skin with slight irritation as she sprung back from the pond, landing back first with her arms outstretched on the green meadow. The plain, bluish-grey skies lacked a single spark of golden light. She sighed, pillowing her head with her arms. Had she really made the right choice?

Jin's life was at stake and she had to do everything in her power to help him. She knew he would've done the same for her. Damn that Hwoarang. She was very disappointed, but at the same time not surprised. Asking him was a long shot anyway. But the actual sound of his voice saying 'no' still hit her hard. And that was the only answer he was going to give her because she wasn't prepared to give him what he wanted. But shouldn't honour, and possibly even self-respect, be set aside when weighed against the importance of life?

"Ooof," she muffled when the feel of wet fabric suddenly invaded her face, rendering her vision dark. She brought herself to a sitting position, tossing aside the red jacket that had been dropped on her.

'There you go, Ling. I managed to get rid of any potential stains but it's still a little wet. Hang it over your shoulder as we walk. I'm sure it will dry within an hour or two.'

Xiaoyu turned to the projector of the voice, thankful for the presence of the huge black and white bear that stood behind her. "Thanks, Panda. Sorry about that. I know laundry isn't exactly your specialty."

'You don't need to apologize, Ling. It wasn't your fault,' Panda reassured her. 'It was that jerk who got you all dirty in the first place. I swear, if his motorbike smoke had got my fur he'd be a dead man walking right now.' But her words didn't seem to be cheering up the saddened girl. 'What's wrong Ling?'

"Panda," Xiaoyu started, looking deep into her pet's dark eyes. Panda sat down to better pay attention. "Do you really think I did the right thing?"

The Panda bear put a soothing paw on her shoulder. 'Of course you did.'

"Then, why do I feel so bad. Like I ... I ... like I betrayed Jin?" Panda disagreed with a shake of her head but Xiaoyu couldn't escape the mindset. "I mean, if I were Jin and well you were me, wouldn't you do everything you could to save me? Or would you have done what I did?"

'But Ling what you did was right,' Panda argued. 'Who's to say that that thug would've even kept his word after he had had his way with you? You can't trust guys like that, Ling and even if he did agree to help us, I doubt he would've been of much use anyway. We'll find someone else.'

"Oh come on Panda," Xiaoyu said matter-of-factly. "I know you hate the guy, and I don't like him much either, but saying he wouldn't be much help would be downright false. Besides, we need all the help we can get, no matter how small." Suddenly motivated, she shot back to her feet. "Which is why I've made my decision!"

'Er, Ling?'

"Not now, Panda. I'm trying to be revolutionary," she said with a confident smirk to the sky. She strapped on her fingerless gloves, black to match her small, tight-fitting vest.

'But Ling, you dropped something.' A shiny, golf-ball-shaped sphere was resting stably in the centre of Panda's open palm. The azure streaks of light that scattered from its depths were so bright they were almost blinding.

Xiaoyu snatched the ball from Panda and pocketed it immediately, killing its dazzling display of brilliant blue light. She looked at Panda seriously, preparing to straighten her puzzled bear face. "I found it in the Mishima Compound during the last tournament. It's weird. Sometimes it can be so bright and other times it's just like any other ball. I still don't know what it is or what's meant to do but I didn't want to tell anyone until I had at least some sort of clue. What do you think it is?"

Panda shook her head. 'I don't know, never seen anything like it. But I think you made the right decision not telling anyone. Except for one thing ... I'm not just anyone. I'm your best friend, you could've trusted me.'

"I know and I'm sorry Panda. I was going to tell you eventually though but I guess I just sort of ... forgot. Please forgive me, you'll be the first to know anything in future," she pleaded with her palms together.

'Oh, oh okay,' Panda said, submitting to her trainer's puppy dog eyes. 'But never forget to tell me anything again. Now, what were you saying about making a decision?'

Xiaoyu tapped her chin with an index finger as she tried to recall. "Oh, yeah! I've made my decision! Listen..."

The two close companions continued their conversation, ignorant to the fact that a few hundreds of feet into the distance, hidden in the nearby woods, concealed by the vastness of thick tree branches and green leaves, a pair of sinister eyes shone red, surveying the every movement of their target.

ooOOoo

Flocks of unbound birds pervaded the setting skies, soaring swiftly through the obstacle-free atmosphere. Their wings frolicked peacefully in the warm air but unfortunately, the malicious reach of man managed to invade their private fly zones in the form of the harmful fumes that whispered their way into the high clouds. Looking down to the source, one would mock the inevitable malfunction of human convenience.

Herds of metallic creatures, mobile by means of their four, circular, rubber feet, exhausted the roads below. They howled at each other, as if expecting the noise to improve their embarrassingly slow movement. They were strange creatures, with a set of eyes situated at their fronts and a corresponding set fixed on their behinds. The hundreds of these beings stared at each other attentively, each waiting for the next to advance an inch forward so it could do the same. But what was even more enigmatic, were the creatures that drove the vehicles. They were said to be the rulers of Earth, yet, they failed to conquer the simplicity of travel. The birds smirked and flew on.

Caught in the midst of the traffic jam, was a red-haired man slouching lazily on his motorbike. Hwoarang's chin rested on his palm. He sighed out of boredom, waiting for the chance to restart his bike and keep it on for more than a second.

The rush hour, mainly consisting of workers returning home, hadn't been anticipated. Even the pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks appeared to be cruising faster than Concord jets when compared to all the vehicles were deadlocked in the busyness. Loud rants and really pointless complaints were aired by the untamed drivers, some of who expressed their frustration through the honks of their cars.

"Ay, shut up!" Hwoarang retaliated to noisy hoots of the man behind him. He stood on his feet, bike between his legs, and dragged his vehicle a yard forward before dropping right back on it. "Happy?" he said sarcastically to the complainer whom only responded by moving forward the same distance.

Despite the various displays of jewellery visible through the huge, rectangular windows of the buildings to the side of the road, Hwoarang still felt bored. He frowned at the people walking on the inner curb, jealous of the measly lampposts that were their only hurdles. The only thing that could excite him at the moment was the visual remembrance of Ling Xiaoyu. It was a shame she denied his generous offer.

She must have been extremely desperate to even consider investing in him to help her find Jin Kazama. Oh, how he wished he could've exploited that desperation. But maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on her. A city girl, prepared to travel all the way to the gutter, only to shake the cold hand of rejection, all in the name of Jin Kazama. On second thought ... he loved it.

Anything that would curse Jin's fate was a comfort for him. For two years, Hwoarang had strived, had lived for the sole purpose of that rematch. But what did he get instead? A damned near perfect victory. He could have got a better fight from a bitch that had had its puppies taken away. Heh, why did that thought remind him of Nina?

He won too easily. He very much doubted the notion that he had grown that much stronger over the years, leaving the only explanation Jin's deliberate preservation. But why would Jin want to hold back?

The scenery of two people's obscured figures frantically kissing in the backseat of the black and yellow taxi in front of him became apparent. Moulded with the scent of leaking drops of petrol and gassy smog, it disgusted him. That was the down side of having no doors or windows on your vehicle.

But nothing disgusted him more than the thought of pity. Jin's pity.

He shook his head. He had to stop thinking of Jin, for whenever he did, the chain of thoughts would run in an eternal ring of disappointment and shame.

BEEP! The loud car horn blew the dangling strands of orange hair on the back of his head. He gritted his teeth, letting the anger build within his chest as he slowly turned to scold that damn irritation. "WHAT'S YOUR PROB-" But his words were cut short when he realised who he was talking to.

A Chinese man, with black straps running down his pink shirt, sat in the driving seat of the police car with a triumphant grin on his face. Black bangs hung before his face as his head poked out of the open window. "Hwoarang, you're under arrest!"

"Lei Wulong," he questioned the possibility of running into him. It was the acclaimed 'Super Cop' himself. Hwoarang often wondered what such a high ranking officer like Wulong would be doing chasing petty crooks like him. "What's wrong officer? Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

But the law enforcement veteran ignored the demeaning statement, and emerged from his vehicle. The door bolted shut behind him as he made his way towards the offender. "Trust me," he started, producing a pair of unclipped handcuffs from his pocket. "You criminals are the real bothers."

Hwoarang grew worried as the imprisoning instruments got closer to him. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, pushing down the engine gear with the sole of his boot. "But those cuffs ... not exactly my style." He pulled on the accelerator but before he knew it, his left wrist was fastened with the steel of the handcuffs. Lei Wulong was much faster than an average man of the same age. But not fast enough, Hwoarang thought, lifting his front tire with the handlebars.

"Hey!" Wulong complained as he lost balance and ended up clipping the other half of the handcuffs onto one of bike's handlebars. With a grumble of his bike, the daring escape artist drove right up the boot of the taxi in front and rode right over its hood and onto its bonnet before hitting the road again.

Wulong swung around, using his intuition to survey the area for a suitable vehicle he could use to give chase. Considering their size and flexibility, cars were a definite no. His keen eyes quickly spotted a pizza scooter. It didn't look like much but it was certainly more flexible, and hence more convenient, than anything else in sight.

He sprinted towards it. "Police," he declared, flashing his badge before the young rider. "I need your vehicle for official police duty. If you would please –"

"But dude, I'm already like ten minutes late. There's no way I'm going to able to – Argh!" The delivery boy cried out, as a swift backhand met his face, hurling him backwards to land on a car's bonnet.

"Sorry about that," Wulong apologised, as he mounted the variation of a motorbike. "I've got no time to waste. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He sped off without another word, driving between the gaps of packed cars to get to the sidewalk.

"But dude ... at least leave the pizza!" But the officer was already long gone. "Oh well, there goes my tip." Suddenly, a huge muscular man appeared from the car he had been knocked onto.

The bulging muscleman punched his palm threateningly. "See what you did to my windshield, punk?" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "You're going to loose more than just a tip over that!"

"But dude ... oh dear..." the boy whined, curling himself up on the car and covering his head as he waited for his painful fate.

ooOOoo

Hwoarang grinned at the unaware pedestrians who were forced to dive aside from the threat of his motorbike. He swirled from streetlamps and evaded fire hydrants as he drove the narrow path clearly spaced for the specific use of foot travellers. Given the circumstances however, rules and regulations were of no concern to him. Bitter coldness bit his body from the sudden stop of momentous, rushing winds as he took a sharp right turn.

He looked back to check for his pursuer and was relieved at the sight, or the lack of. Although his slightly restricted wrist failed to wither his masterful navigation, the irritating sight of the handcuff was getting to him. He pumped his left fist and concentrated energy to the hand. A grunt ruptured from his lips as he yanked his arm high into the air, dismantling the miniature torture device in the process. He twisted his liberated wrist, enjoying the pleasurable feel of normality. Unfortunately, it didn't last long as booming threats reached his ears from behind.

"Ha!" Hwoarang grinned triumphantly, spotting the excuse of a bike that the closely-following Wulong was chasing him on. "Give it up! You'll never catch me with that!" Contrary to his statement, Wulong managed to reduce the gap between them, to less than three feet. The dry and worn out motor of the close-by scooter annoyed him. He smiled. Thankfully it wasn't something out of his control. With a rapid twist of the accelerator on the handlebar, he sped off instantly, leaving distasteful smoke for Wulong's lungs to battle with.

The tires screeched loudly as Wulong was forced to skid to a stop. He coughed out the choking fumes and dusted his eyes from the obstruction with a forearm. When he finally looked up again, Hwoarang was long gone. The appalling sensation of burning rubber rose to his nostrils, urging him to hasten his plan formulation. He had an idea. He drove forth and took the first right.

ooOOoo

"WOOOOOO!" Hwoarang celebrated, his hands lingering freely in the thirty-foot high air. He grabbed the handlebars as his bike began descending. With the smooth touch of the grounding tires, and the supple suspension of the seat, he made a successful touchdown, his wheels making good use of an inadvertent, down sloping ramp. He had definitely lost the cop now.

No one could have predicted the twists and turns he undertook as he navigated the big city. And the fact that he was taking a couple more only complicated the unwanted trail he left behind. He had to thank Wulong, though, as if it wasn't for him, he'd probably still be stuck in that horrible traffic jam. He proceeded to snatch an apple from a fruit and vegetable stand as he sped by. He took a single bite from it before successfully tossing it into a bin as he continued to travel at a high speed.

He adjusted the barely utilised goggles sleeping on his forehead in a show of confidence, leaving a single hand steering the bike. When it came to this extreme sport, no one stood a chance against him. To add to his joy, the entrance of an underground parking zone caught his attention. He could lay low until Wulong had given up for good. He flicked the left indicator on as he proceeded to the cool down point.

Having taken the turn, still smiling and all, a strange but familiar rumbling hit his ears.

No. It couldn't be.

His heart nearly stopped beating when he turned and found out what – or who it was.

Lei Wulong, again? But how did he - it wasn't important. The cop stood with bent knees on the seat of his moving scooter, using his arms to help his uneasy balance as the wind flapped his white, formal pants. The entrance to the underground parking lot grew thinner as they both drew closer to it. Once the distance was small enough, Wulong dove toward Hwoarang, pushing away from the scooter with his feet for maximum momentum. The scooter went sliding across the ground, metal screeches heard as scratches were carved into its body.

Grunts and groans arose from both parties as Wulong managed to tackle Hwoarang off his bike, causing the two men to meet the floor hard, twirling and rolling all over the ground as each man tried to win a good position. The fumble was soon over, leaving them free to stand toe-to-toe.

"You're not bad," Hwoarang panted. "For an old guy."

"Not bad?" Wulong replied dissatisfied. "Let's see what you'll have to say after I beat you down." He folded his arms and shrugged his head up before assuming his battle pose.

Hwoarang scratched the back of his head then hopped in place, closed fists held a little away from his face. "Now all we're missing is an announcer," he joked, but quickly convinced himself that he wasn't in the mood for the subsequent fight. Without warning, he dropped his pose and ran away from the cop.

"Coward!" Wulong bellowed, resuming the chase on foot. Though still an impressive cop, his legs certainly weren't what they had used to be, giving Hwoarang the edge in speed. But it was going to be very difficult for Hwoarang to lose him in a relatively empty car park. Especially because he was running close to the single entrance and exit to the zone. Hwoarang, strangely, didn't seem to be heading for the exit; instead he was heading towards ... an elevator!

He side stepped pillars and rolled over car boots to keep chase of the scoundrel, hell-bent on capturing him. But his burning chest was anything but on his side. Then, strangely, Hwoarang disregarded the lift and appeared be running to a wall. By the time he realised what the redhead bandit was up to, it was too late. Hwoarang had already jumped towards the wall and pressed against it with one foot, using the same foot to kick off the wall and jolted his other foot straight to Wulong's chest, sending him sliding across the gravel before coming to a stop.

As Wulong struggled to get up, he caught a glimpse of the elevator doors shutting Hwoarang in, the petty crook holding up an insulting finger as he was closed in. He stood up, hand against his chest and proceeded cautiously to the elevator with a frail walk. He panted desperately to regain his breadth. "That bastard," he said out loud, as he pushed the lift's button. "He's going to get it."

End of Chapter 2