"What makes you think we can get people to join us?" I say.

Miharu smiles a little and brushes her hair out of the way of her eyes, "Because, I think their fear is weakening."

I'm out with Miharu, because she dragged me out with her and thinks that if we talk to the people and tell them about the Resistance, then more people will join. I actually don't think it's that bad an idea, but I don't think it's a good one either. Lei approved of the thought, but he told us specifically to only be out for an hour and a half, including travel. He also told us to be extremely careful and to take our small handguns for protection, for survival. Miharu jumped at this idea. Since joining the Resistance, she's loved guns. The rest of us are just impartial to them, you in particular.

Shrugging, I stuff my hands into my jean pockets and notice three teenage girls looking at us. I then notice that the Japanese youth is moving towards them, and, bored and unsure, I follow. They're dressed in their school uniforms, and I realise it's the same school that Miharu used to go to. They might've been her younger friends. Maybe she thinks she can get them to join, maybe she can get information on her family from them.

"Hi," she says, feigning cheer.

"Hello," the surprisingly tall one in the middle says. She's eyeing me, "Who's the hunk?"

Heh, well…

"A friend of mine," she states, "I was wondering if –"

"Oh so he's not your boyfriend? Sweet. Hey hun, lookin' for a good time?"

Deciding to screw around for my amusement, I say, "Sorry, I'm over sex."

"How can you be 'over' sex? Obviously I'll have to fix that."

"Not interested. I think your girlfriends will get jealous."

The girl looks to her other two friends. I'm struggling to hold in laughter, but I think I snorted a little. Miharu chuckles and looks at me approvingly, before looking back to the three girls. She's holding onto a clipboard, and she wants to write down a list of names on the blank paper before her. Pulling her pen out from behind her ear, she speaks, "I was wondering if you three were interested in joining a Resistance group that was dedicated to bringing down the Empire."

The one in the middle and the one on the right shake their heads rapidly, fear ebbed deep in their eyes.

The one on the left with the blonde highlights gasps and shakes her head repeatedly, "No no no! I love the Leader! How can you want to bring him down?"

My eyes narrow dangerously, and my voice has picked up some type of poison in its tone, "How can you 'love' the man who destroyed the world?"

She smiles and clasps her hands together, and weirdly babbles, "He didn't destroy it, he made it better! He's so dreamy… Power is so sexy. Beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, a godly body… Oh man…" she fans herself, "I'll be his queen any day."

Utterly repulsed, I walk away, not hearing any following remarks from any of the three girls. Miharu follows too, shaking her head with disgust. Sighing, she looks down to the list and then looks up at my angry face as we walk, "There is still nobody on the list, Hwoarang. I guess I was wrong to think that the fear was diminishing…" Rubbing her forehead, she continues to speak, "What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know. Sorry."

After a small nod, she continues to prattle on, "We've asked so many people of so many different ages, nationalities, and so on… Rich or poor, they won't join us. With meaning to life, they won't come – and with nothing left to lose, they turn away. What're we doing wrong? Hmm… I guess we'll have to ask Lei when we return, hey?"

"I suppose," I say, hands still deep in my pockets, "Maybe the people aren't ready to try."

We stop in the Plaza, seeing hundreds, if not thousands of people going about their daily lives, pretending that they're not living in poverty or haven't lost a son to Tekken Force or the war. Our gazes crawl up the buildings, spotting the giant television that was installed many years ago. The news runs around the clock, and every half an hour there's some propaganda advertisement in favour of the tyrant and the Empire he controlled.

Currently on the television is the scene of the bomb site from about three weeks ago now. I state, "Maybe they need to see that. Maybe need to see that a difference has been made, against something so huge…" My gaze drifts to the masses that all look like stunned mullets, gaping at what coordinated, colour pixels and murmuring things I can't quite understand – but they're definitely paying attention. I grin a little, "They need inspiration!" I turn to my accomplice, "That's it, Miharu, they need inspiration!"

She looks a little happier and nods, "Okay, we'll try that."

I find a burly, lonely man, who is sitting up in the back corner and watching the television with a small smirk on his face. He's clearly pleased about the events that are going on. We move towards him, standing on either side. I lean against the wall, arms folded, and Miharu leans against it as well, clutching the clipboard close to her chest; and this time I do the speaking in my super suave voice, "I take it you like what's happened, huh?"

"Definitely," he growls, clenching his fists, "They deserve it. It's a mighty blow to the Empire, one I'd love to be a part of."

"Then I'm glad we found you," I watch as Miharu hands him the clipboard and the pen, "We're the ones who made that bombing happen. We're part of the Resistance, a small group dedicated to shattering the Empire and killing the man at the top. Join us and you can help restore freedom to the world, and give that idiot Leader a good thrashing."

He licks his lips for a moment and moves to sign the sheet when I suddenly hear gasping. My head snaps to the cause of the noise, and my eyes widen dramatically, seeing him come through the crowds with numerous Tekken Force soldiers. It seems the man that was going to sign sees it as well and flees immediately, dropping the pen and the clipboard. I draw my gun and so does Miharu, and we point and take aim at the man, hoping to take him down.

He's looking at us when we fire, and a strange, purple light illuminates around him. The bullets collide with the shield he's made, and they hit the floor as though they were never launched. The shield then fades and he starts to move towards us with his soldiers, who are aiming at us and trying to take shots now. 'His' slaves, the ones who are terrified of him, are yelling for us to be killed and for him to succeed – but they're only saying it because they're scared. They part, letting him through.

"We gotta get out of here," I say, looking to her, "Come on, Miharu. We can live to fight and die another day."

It is not this day that I will die.

She follows, but to my surprise, she's still looking over her shoulder a lot, stopping and shooting. Her hatred for the man runs deep, because she knew him personally once. So did I, but, I was never on friendly terms with him like she was. It's a different type of blow to her. To me, its 'I always knew you were an asshole, but I didn't think you stank that much'. To her, it's 'why have you changed so much'. To her, it's 'you survived through all of that pain and torture, paranoid and trembling, for this; and I don't understand'. To her, it's 'you were my friend, and you've hurt everything that I love – I won't stand for this'.

I help her out by taking another shot, but like before, the bullets fall short of his body. A shot rages past me, and if I'd been merely an inch to the left, it would've got me in the head and killed me. Shaken by that fact, I put the gun away and look straight ahead of myself, bounding over endless amounts of rubbish, looking for somewhere to hide and the fastest path back to the hideout, where I'll be safe. Miharu's still shooting, but her shots have slowed in consistency and become sloppy.

She's shot in the arm. I go to help the whimpering girl, but she shoves me away, "Run. I'll get him."

I try to pick her up again but she pushes me away, using her stronger legs this time. I look to her one last time with sad eyes and indeed move, navigating through a long alley until I come to a safe hiding spot. I peer out and watch her stand to her feet, stand before the tyrant with an angry look on her face. She's surrounded by Tekken Force soldiers, all of them pointing guns at her, waiting for their master's command. Just waiting.

"Greetings, Miharu Hirano," he drawls, arms folded across his chest.

She says nothing. She clenches her fists, one of which is still tightly holding the handgun.

He raises his large eyebrows and states, "No 'hello' back? Have you not missed an old friend?"

"You are no friend of mine," she hisses.

"The unchangeable past says otherwise."

She spits on him. The wad lands on his right cheek, and, disgusted, angry and annoyed, he wipes it off with the back of his trench coat sleeve. He whips out a handgun of his own and points it at her forehead with his left hand. She aims back, holding the weapon both hands now. All of the Tekken Force soldiers get ready to pull the trigger. The Japanese youth speaks, "The past may be undoable, but the future is what we make of it."

He chuckles once, smirking. A click in his gun is heard, and it is mirrored by hers, "The future is what I make of it."

There are tears in her eyes, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. I know she's going to die, but I don't know who will be the one to shoot. She wants to say something, something that will leave an imprint on the spectators, but she's not sure what. I can tell that she's thinking of her friends and her family, I can tell that she's wondering if what she ever did – in her old life or her new one with me and the others – ever made a difference.

He leans forward a little and presses the cold metal against her head. The feeling of it against her skin has seemingly paralysed her. His smirk widens, and his eyes twinkle with amusement and something that I can't identify, "You have no future, and the future does not have you in it."

Miharu throws his arm up and away from herself just as he fires. The bullet whizzes through the air, and before the Tekken Force soldiers can shoot her to pieces, she raises her gun to the side of her head and shouts as loud as she can, "But you will not be the one to make that decision!"

She looks to the sky and says her last goodbye. The second shot rings. I'm gaping, looking at the body of my friend on the floor, feeling her soul literally leave the area, like the other members that died before her. I never thought she'd do this. From all of the situations I conjured in my head, I never thought she would die by her own hand. She took her own life, because she wanted the power to do so. She didn't want him to make that decision – she didn't want him to have the choice, to have the opportunity or to have the say. She didn't want him to command her, and she didn't want to listen.

My eyes are watery, but I still narrow them and furrow my eyebrows. I've unknowingly stepped from my hiding spot in the alleyway and I'm glaring daggers at the tyrant, anger and hatred crawling through every cell in my body. My fists are so tightly clenched that my fingers are white, and I'm sure my knuckles are too, beneath my brown gloves. I want to charge at him, I want to scream things at him that both do and don't make sense – but if I do that, I'll die. It is not this day that I will die.

He lowers his gun, looking at the body on the ground. Shaking his head a little, he looks up at me, still wearing that smirk.

The paranoid monster, the survivor of his cursed bloodline…

Jin Kazama.