Epilogue

Disclaimer – Ok, Team Ninja... you ruined Samus Aran spectacularly, betrayed and raped her previously established character and made the single worst game of the last five years, but I'm more than willing to forgive you, if you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't put her in a bikini and give her the same simpering personality as before in the new 'Dead or Alive'.

By the way, before we begin, I've finally played Tekken 6, and can now announce that if you use Miguel online, you offically suck.

Six days after the murder of Morris Wellington

Kyoto

00:12

Hand slammed against metal. The mailbox rang in the midnight as Johnny struggled to stand up. He had decided against going to hospital until he was out of Japan. The police were still looking for him since he had given them the slip, and he wasn't exactly conspicuous anymore, with the burns and the painful limp, and now he had a right eye that refused to stop bleeding. He shoved his right hand onto said eye, checking the abandoned street, looking behind, then in front. No one. Perfect. Johnny knew that before he could leave, he had to pick up his prize, a prize he had culminated over the years.

He never trusted banks. He always got his money in physical notes, and he hid his treasure in his trove, this mailbox. It was grotty and unused, perfectly inconspicuous. It was often used to give him money when he was in Japan, but nobody knew that it was also where he kept the rest of his money. After all, who'd look where they checked every day?

First, he felt the bottom of the metal box, looking for the secret compartment. His free hand scurried, his right slowly being coated in blood from his eye, finally feeling a chink in the plane of aluminium. Fiddling desperately, he snapped the trapdoor open with a desperate grit and collected the contents, ten wads of white and purple notes. He fumbled through one quickly, counting the notes in sets of five, constantly checking for passers-by.

"Hundred, two, three, four, five…" On and on, and then once again, until he was absolutely sure of the bounty's value. He even checked the other wads, while not counting, making sure the notes were real. It took him almost half an hour, but eventually, he had finished, and was surprised of the high bounty. Half a million pounds sterling. A wad each worthy fifty grand.

Afterwards, he suddenly slammed the side of the mailbox, and he watched as a flap smacked out slightly. He smirked, looking at the lock inside the flap, before pushing his fingers into his hair. It had been years in there, and the superglue tore away a large chunk of hair with agonising effect, but he had the key in his hand now, and placed it in the lock. Twisting, he opened the secret compartment.

Another ninety wads. Added to the bounty he got tonight, it all came to five million pounds, sterling. Johnny smiled, despite the pain of his face. He had hit the jackpot. This was almost all he had ever earned in his life, just in his hands. A lifetime of work. This was a lifetime free of responsibility. He was a multi-millionaire now.

"Excuse me, sir?" A timid voice sounded. Johnny wheeled around, keeping his money hidden. To any passer-by, he'd look like any other tramp, and he gave a quite convincing look of mild surprise towards the suited gentleman who backed away in fright. "You look hurt. Are you alright?" Johnny reached out to him shakily, pointing to a bag on his shoulder.

"Th-that bag…" He asked croakily. "I need it." The suited man looked curiously at him. Johnny coughed slightly. "I'll pay you. Absolutely anything you ask for, I can afford it." Johnny then smiled unconsciously at his own words. Of course he can afford it. The suited man bent down, looking to him.

"Sure thing." He said, turning to unzip the bag. He squatted on his knees, then realised his mistake. He turned to find a silencer prodding in his eye. "How'd you…"

"You spoke English to me despite the fact that we're in Japan." Johnny seethed, his right hand escaping his right to begin to pack the bag, the eye now a constant, slow ejection of scarlet tears. "Who sent you?"

"Yakuza." The man replied, stern now, steadying himself. "I have a few questions." Johnny sneered, the blackened lip twisting. "Why did you attack Kenta?" Johnny coughed slightly, trying to laugh but only spluttering painfully.

"I knew you guys didn't like him, what with doing deals outside the Yakuza." He answered. "I decided that seeing as he was probably going to get done in, I didn't want to get tied up and killed by your lot." The silencer then pressed further to the man, almost trying desperately to imprint its black hole into his eyeball. "So, is that what you're doing?"

"N-n-no." The man stuttered. He tried to keep calm, seeming aloof and unfazed. Being in the Yakuza meant that this situation was not uncommon, but the man on the trigger end had just been on the television and was still national news, maybe even international news, and his image wasn't one of class or restraint. He was foaming at the mouth, bleeding at the eye and snarling like an animal. Now, besides the eye, he seemed unlike the same man, but still, the idea that that was under the surface chilled him. "We just wanted to know what you were paying him. We'll ignore you afterwards; Kenta just wants all the loose ends tied up." The man got a rude shock when Johnny began to laugh, though only to have it become a hideous and loud hacking cough, retching and spluttering as if he was about to drop dead.

"A wo-PLUERARGH! A woman. Euhah!." He answered finally in-between coughs. "Decided to try and kill her… look where that got me." Johnny said, standing up, bag in hand and money in bag. He began to walk backwards, dropping to the floor as soon as he let go of the mailbox and crawling on his back, gun still to the Yakuza man, right eye still allowing scarlet drops to float away. "Asuka Kazama. Go with my blessing if you want, but if you don't want to look like me, drop it." The Yakuza man watched as Johnny backed into the darkness, before he stopped.

"How did you know that I was here?" He asked.

"Because I told him you'd be here."

Johnny looked to the owner of the voice that boomed behind him. The man wasn't even shouting, but the low Brixton rumble was just overpowering. The first thing anybody notices about this man is his eyes. They seemed mismatched, his skin being stern ebony but his eyes being a dull grey. However, it's the look in them that draws attention. Not to the emotion, but the utter lack of it. He never smiled, neither with eyes or lips. It was as if he didn't even notice you. And those same eyes were always moving, checking the distance for listeners or scanning the person he addresses. His bald head and his large build only added to the detached menace, amplified by the fact that he stood while Johnny and the Yakuza agent were both on their backs. He wore a simple hoodie and track-bottom trousers. Johnny raised an eyebrow.

"Craig Stamford?" He asked. Craig didn't answer, only turned his grey eyes on Johnny, who smiled nervously. "How long has it been?"

"Eight years, Mister Jonathan Alexei Smith. Known better by the alias Johnny Showdown to both friends and enemies." Came a growling reply, devoid of emotion of any kind. "Do you know why I came here?" Johnny was already suspicious, but now his nerves crackled with electricity. Something's wrong, they screamed, something's wrong.

"It wasn't for a tea party." He snarled, before kicking with his good leg, pushing himself away rapidly. Craig's foot, however, was a lightning bolt, hitting Johnny in the chest. Johnny growled in anger. Craig didn't even look at Johnny.

"Contrary to popular belief, a family grudge can be paid off." He stated. "Sometimes with blood. Sometimes with a favour. In my case, I was willing to allow the remaining Wellingtons to go free for money." He finally looked to Johnny, who unconsciously gulped. "Money that you have now deprived me of."

"As if he was going to win!" Came Johnny's panicked reply. "I thought you wanted him dead! I was doing you a favour! And what good does killing me do for you?"

"You could ask that woman… Asuka, I think… the same question." Craig said. "- and besides, I'm not here to kill you. Too much attention would be drawn." With this, he put his hand in his pocket, before pulling out a battered metal ball. "You dropped this."

"M-my yoyo!" Johnny reached for it, but Craig pulled it away.

"My yoyo now." He stated, before nodding to the Yakuza agent. Johnny looked behind him, seeing that his bag, with Johnny's money in it, was now hanging from the lamppost nearest to the mailbox. He looked back to Craig.

"What are you doing with my money?" He asked. "I thought you were letting me go."

"I know." Craig answered. "I'm not going to kill you." He put his hand in his breast pocket, pulling out a cigar. "Want a cigar?" Johnny nodded with curiosity, watching as Craig lit it. This was far too friendly. What was the plan? "Go get it." Came Craig's voice. Then, very suddenly, Craig threw the cigar straight at the bag. The flammable bag, designed for this purpose, lit almost immediately, with all the money inside. Johnny's jaw dropped and his eyes widened, watching the great fireball consume everything he had ever worked for.

"… you…" Johnny started, before drifting off and crawling on his stomach to under the bag. Flaming notes dropped, which Johnny reached for, unable to stand and get the money himself. Craig observed Johnny for a moment, before nodding to his Yakuza accomplice.

"Money's what you took from me, Johnny, so that's what I'll take from you. Enjoy your life." He said, before walking into the darkness, leaving a pathetic animal clawing for what was too far out of his reach.

This really shouldn't be possible. Maybe the same thing is happening to you what happened to Morris. Or maybe it was Unknown's doing, as a sick joke to be revealed after it was too late to stop it. Maybe it's just luck. Just dumb luck.

Yeah, the whole 'being dead' thing makes me such a super fucking lucky guy.

… I have something to say to you.

Oh aye? And that would be…

Sorry.

… for?

Just… everything. Everything that's happened recently, and everything before then too. Everybody's telling me that it wasn't my fault, that Unknown clouded my vision completely. That it could've been anybody. But I know different. You know different. You taught me to know different.

Bah! I taught you how to catch a ball with a blindfold on. Nothing to do with stopping giant blobs of goo from turning you evil.

You said that life was all about challenges, and dealing with them. There's no point to life if you don't beat everything it throws at you. And what did I do? I couldn't face Kazuya's death, and I blamed you, even though you were defending me, and I spent fifteen years trying to change it in vain. I let Unknown grow stronger because I allowed revenge and resentment become the greatest motivating factors of my life.

So, something terrible happens, you have the means to change it… and you think that trying it out made you evil?

I couldn't face life's challenges, so I ran. I was a coward, and I tried to get what I wanted by force, not by earning it.

… let me remind you of something else I said. Not to you directly, but you took it to heart.

Hmmm?

"There's nothing more important than happiness. All other things are helpful. None are essential"

And what wasn't true about that?

The last part. I thought you needed nothing but happiness, but I was wrong. Dead wrong. When I finally did learn that, it was too late to save you from a terrible event that would flip anyone over the edge far quicker than it did you.

…what?

Pain. Sorrow. Torment. Call it what you will, we all need a bit of it, because it teaches us how to deal with our problems. It's part of who we are.

A pause. A very long pause.

… thank you. I needed that.

Don't sweat it. And say thanks to Morris from me. Tell him that he helped me realise what I just told you.

Um, Morris is…

… is?

… doesn't matter. I will tell him that.

Cheers, Jun.

With that, Spike faded away forever, a small smirk on his face. A smirk that Jun, for the first time in years, could match.

The police found a strange sight on the morning of the day Morris's funeral would take place. A bag, containing a fortune, was hanging from a lamppost, burnt completely with all the money inside it burnt too. They also found Johnny Showdown's fingerprints and his blood on the scene, and traced him to an airport where he hid himself on a plane. They worked out from the time he left which plane it would be, but it wouldn't be for another nine months until they found him again, in Avignon, France; he was at the time strangling a wealthy businessman to death, and had done the same to at least sixteen others, taking all the money he could from them.

They took Johnny to prison for account of the murder of three hundred and thirty one people, to which he declared himself guilty. He was gibbering like a maniac at this point; on the streets, he had been half starved to death, and his physical state had deteriorated even further. Clearly, the emotional blow of losing his money and health due to a venture he put his heart and soul into, and thought he'd get rewarded for, coupled with the fact that he couldn't possibly hide his identity and start over thanks to his distinct appearance and scars, was too much for him to handle, and he was later declared too mentally unstable and physically weak to pose any threat. He spent the rest of his surprisingly long life in a mental institution in Italy, and grew a fondness for gardening.

"Morris…"

"... wake up…"

"… I don't think he'll pull through…"

"… doesn't look too good…"

"Morris, no!"

"Kazama-Chan… I'm afraid he's gone…"

"Morris!"

"MORRIS!"

"Morris, wake up!" Came a quite direct bark, to which Morris obeyed quite nervously. The brown chair rocked heavily from the motion of Morris jumping slightly out of the seated position, leather and velvet inter-woven to maximise comfort. He landed back and slid his hand over his eyes, rubbing the sleep out.

"What is it, ma'am?" He slurred, turning his head to observe the room, a huge circular platform, the blood carpet much unlike the black night. He then remembered what he had seen, and turned back around. Asuka stood slightly over him, her eyes beaming brilliantly, the smile she wore one of a joy unseen even by gods. Her chestnut hair floated through the air, dancing and spiralling like leaves. She had cut it a few days ago, Morris supposed, the hair just short of her neck. Her skin seemed to shine just as much as her smile, with lips that parted slightly, invitingly. However, Morris' attention was attracted to where it usually resided. "Knockers!" He shouted quite gleefully, and it was not an unwarranted cry, in fact Asuka had planned on it. She did wear a smile, though little else, as her breasts remained completely unsheathed and her hands were occupied adjusting the blue panties that clutched at her hips. Morris was astonished, before looking up to her like a Dickensian orphan child with an empty bowl. She giggled slightly at his wordless pleading.

"I'm not dressed like this because it's comfy." She said, stretching her hands around his neck, interlocking the fingers behind his head. Her abdomen slid easily over his, feeling a lump that caused Morris to whimper in restraint. Her knees balanced on either side of the chair as she joined her lips with his, embracing him fully. It took a minute for her to summon the willpower to part, only an inch from his face. "I was so worried about you, Morris." Morris smirked.

"What for?" He said. He raised his hand slightly as her own slid from behind his neck to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers moved at incredible speed but to no destination, twirling and twisting as his palm made its slow journey towards her left breast.

"Johnny." She whispered, wincing at mention of the name. "Though it paid off. You won, remember? You're rich. Remember any of it?" Her hands lowered themselves, scanning his incredibly scarred and bony torso. Morris's hands had dropped and his face was rattled with confusion.

"Not really, no." He told her, his mind leaving the room. Asuka sighed. "I mean, how did I survive? And what about Jun, or Jin for that matter, and…" He noticed that his right hand was once again level with her bust, held by her own with a soft grip to the wrist. "Oh…" He smiled lecherously.

"Let's not talk about that." Asuka said, releasing his hand and allowing it to grab and lightly squeeze, her nipples hard with desire. She sighed at his touch. "Just us two now. Nothing else." Morris reached his lips and to her neck, kissing it lightly, as her hands got lower and lower, tugging at his fly. A knocking at the door interrupted the two, causing Morris to snarl angrily.

"GO AWAY!" He shouted.

"But sir, the president's being attacked by robo-ninjas, and he needs your help!" Came a voice. Morris and Asuka sighed in disappointment.

"Duty calls." Asuka remarked.

"Yeah, but I'll bring you with me." He stood up, letting Asuka get off. He then swept her off her feet, holding onto her as if she were a bride. "We'll finish this in the Oval Office." Asuka smiled, kissing him again.

"Will you want your private rocket prepared, Morris?" She said, reaching for the phone.

"Nonsense! I'll fly." With that, Morris took off, smashing the glass window as he left. The clouds sped past him and Asuka, the two looking to the future.

"Morris…" Asuka began, looking to Morris with her brown eyes. "- I've got an idea I want to try." With that, she dropped slightly so she was standing on Morris's feet as the two flew together, reaching once again for his waist. Morris closed his eyes in anticipation.

"Never done this before…" He remarked, before opening his eyes; in the dark, fully clothed and, most annoyingly, alone. He let the disappointment and fury sink in a small moment, before the red mist descended.

"FFFFFFF-FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" He began to kick and bawl like a child, stamping his fists on the wooden floor. He pulled his head up involuntary, and got a shock, smacking it against an unseen wall.

"Ow!" He clutched his head in pain as it rattled. "That's one fucking headache…" Then he felt a tear escape as he realised what had happened, and he smiled. "I'M ALIVE!" He shouted to nobody.

"OF COURSE!" His brain worked faster than his mouth did. "Asuka's fire! When it hit me during the fight, it must have nullified Johnny's relaxant!" He scanned his chest, before finding a heartbeat. A quiet and weak thud-dump thump thud-dump confirmed his suspicions. He could almost hear his heart saying words 'Yes, you're alive, Morris. Don't waste this.'

"I'M ALIVE! I'M AHH…" He had thrown his hands upwards, only to have them blocked two inches from his face. He then noticed fully that it was completely dark. "… what the fuck?" He pressed his ear against this unseen obstacle, before hearing Asuka's voice.

"… he was… I'm sorry, I… I don't know what to say…" Came the Japanese words, choking repeatedly.

"OH FUCK!" Morris suddenly screamed. "YOU BASTARDS! GET ME OUT OF THIS COFFIN, YOU STUPID FUCKTARDS!" He started slamming his hands desperately on the wood, hoping in vain that somebody would hear him.

"HEY! HEY! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? IF THIS IS YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE THEN I WILL PERSONALLY KILL EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE OF YOU, YOU COCK MUNCHING," He punched the wood with his right fist.

"- PISS DRINKING," He punched it with his left.

"- CUM SWILLING," Right.

"- SHIT EATING," Left.

"- CUNT NIBBLING," Right.

"- BALL RAKING," Left.

"- NIPPLE GRINDING," Right.

"- GIBBLE CRANING," He burst through the wood with his next punch. The wood rocketed up then came back down, the coffin's lid shattered and landing on top of him as splinters rained down on his skull. "ARRGH MY FUCKING EYES!" He clutched his eyes as he scrambled within the coffin, kicking his legs desperately. He opened his eyes, and his eyebrows rose. Why is it still black?

VWOOOOOSH!

He curled into a ball, screaming as he did, the jet flame only just missing his toes. He looked to the blue torch.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS A BUDDIST NATION DOING FUCKING CREMATING ME?" He looked to the opposite direction of the flame, the wooden panel pressing on his head. He pulled back his fist, this time smashing through with a single punch. He scrambled out, only to immediately regret it. The walls were still hot, burning Morris to the touch. "AAARRRGGGHHH I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS!"

The flame burnt closer. The flame came closer still.

The morning sun turned the sky yellow and the clouds pink in a glaring haze of colour. A direct contrast to the clothes worn by the two young women who stood by a small headstone, observing it with solemn acknowledgement. Asuka expected a lot less people to come; Morris was never likable on first impressions, but she was surprised to see the majority of tournament fighters at the funeral; even people who outright detested Morris such as King, Julia and Christie had come. It was odd; most of them hadn't even spoke to Morris, yet they came. They all left quickly though, with other things to do, and now only she and Xiaoyu remained.

Xiaoyu shuffled uncomfortably. They both wore the same attire; black, sleeveless dresses that her friend Miharu provided, though she only guessed at Asuka's size, meaning that it was a bit short of her knees, but Xiaoyu decided not to mention it. Besides, considering that most of Morris's thoughts were formed strictly around his libido, she jokingly supposed that it was appropriate. She didn't voice this aloud for fear of offending Asuka, and decided to say what she had been saying over and over again for six days.

"Asuka, I'm so sorry… is there anything I can do?"

"Yeah." She answered Xiaoyu immediately, though not impolitely. "I need you to tell me this isn't real." Asuka's chestnut hair breezed slightly as she observed the headstone that quite literally put the fact into stone; Morris Wellington was dead.

Morris Wellington

Now among Orion, Virgo and the Hydra

"I remembered that he liked stars." Asuka explained. "He sat by the window and counted them once, and many a time. He named too many to mention. He even knew that we called the Hydra 'Nuriko'… he never spoke a word of Japanese, but he knew that." She drifted into silence, reminded of him sitting at nights, his finger on the window drawing the shapes to himself. Not something she expected from him, but there it was.

"He would've loved it." Xiaoyu said. She looked to Asuka. Her eyes were reddened and her skin had tracks of darkness were tears had made their slow journey to the floor. She smiled slightly, however.

"He would have." She finally said. She felt strange. She remembered when her father had lost Jun, and for a few days it didn't sink in, then he fell into depression for a long time. It seemed the opposite for her. The pain was immediate, and it was the only thing she could process; she would cry herself through nights in-between bouts of drowsy pain and wide awake screaming fits, she would be in public and suddenly need to find somewhere to despair in private, all this pain - and already it had past. Maybe all the sadness was pent up and lost quickly. Maybe not. It was here, shook Asuka to her core, and left. Somewhat like Morris's brief and eventful window into her life, she supposed. Here just short of a month ago, and then he was gone. Yet she felt as if she had known him forever, they had spent so much time together. They had exchanged stories, fought for each other, even made love, things that many romantic couples take months on end to do, all done in a happy blur; now no more than memories; a flying leaf caught in a gentle breeze now lost in a blizzard. Happy memories with a stinging end that made her wonder if it was all worth it.

"Asuka?"

"Sorry, Xiaoyu." She said, realising that she had been staring off into space. A smile crept onto her face as she thought a little longer about Morris. "I'm just thinking about him. About how much I loved him. Wondering whether I should be sad he's gone, or happy that he was here."

"Can you not do both?" Came the reply. Asuka laughed lightly.

"Do you mind if I be alone for a short time?" She asked. Her Chinese friend shook her head, and walked away. Asuka kept rolling the same thoughts over in her head, over and over. Happy he was here, sad he's gone.

"This is the second time I've seen his grave." Asuka's head wheeled around to observe the owner of the monotone snipe. The man in the hoodie looked like bad news, and she clenched her fists.

"I don't know who you are, but leave." She said. "I am not in the fucking mood." The man in the hoodie looked to her at last, and she was stunned by just how dead and devoid of emotion he was.

"You do know me. I doubt Morris Wellington ever used my name, but I'm sure he's told you of the events which have now culminated into his untimely and unfortunate death." The comments and the cold way they were addressed made Asuka's blood boil. She clenched her fists and began to walk over to him.

"I don't give a fuck who you are!" She barked, throwing a punch very suddenly and sending the man to the ground, drawing blood from his lip. "JUST LEAVE!"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible…" Came the man's monotone once more, if a little slowed as he wiped his bleeding lip. Asuka was amazed at his nerve. He didn't even flinch when the punch hit, and now he didn't seem surprised at all. "- there is business to attend to." Asuka raised her fist again.

"You don't get a fucking point, do you?"

"There's a sniper in the crematorium aiming his sights at your Chinese friend." Came the monotone that halted Asuka's fist. She snarled slightly. "If you hit me again, Ling Xiaoyu will be hastily killed." Suddenly, it came to her. Asuka remembered a name being dropped, and her anger became even more dangerous and volatile.

"Stamford…" She growled, prompting Craig to nod silently. "- are you going to have me killed?"

"If I was…" He answered. "- I wouldn't be here, and neither would you." He pointed to the crematorium. "We must go somewhere more discreet, Asuka Kazama, and then we can discuss my true purpose for coming here."

The two stepped across the graveyard, a short trip to the edge of the building furthest from the city centre. Asuka's attention was focused entirely on the five new men she met; all in black suits as if they were paying their respects to a dead friend, supposedly to disguise their true purpose, but it was the one in the wheelchair who caught Asuka's attention. He almost reminded her of what Johnny looked like last she saw him, all scars and no skin, and his eyes stared at her like a hawk. She suddenly saw that he was licking his lips, and his eyes now held a freakish lust.

"Johnny offered you to me in exchange for resources." The wheel-chaired man croaked desperately.

"I think we needn't frighten the young woman, Kenta." Craig said in that dead monotone, before looking to Asuka. "I will cut this short. I want your prize money." The woman he addressed raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon?" She asked. Craig kept up the stare.

"The prize money for the tournament." He said. "Now."

Craig expected a rebuttal, or a plea, or a denial. He didn't expect Asuka to start laughing. Her eyes showed nothing but contempt, and it was clear she was faking it, but he was still irritated by her absolute nerve.

"Something tells me that you've not seen Heihachi Mishima before, otherwise you'd already know just how much he gave me." She explained. "Even if I wanted to give you any money, I have none to give." Her glare clashed with Craig's for a silent moment.

"Jin Kazama has given himself to a team of scientists to be sure that the Devil Gene is gone, and has announced that once he is sure he is safe, he will give himself over to the appropriate authorities. Kazuya Mishima has gone missing, possibly for similar reasons. Jun Kazama has recently begun her pursuit for him. As for Ling Xiaoyu, Heihachi said that she wouldn't receive any money because Morris technically won, though he is dead. Logic dictates that the money was passed onto his nearest and dearest, which would be you."

"Well, Heihachi isn't one for giving people compensation." Asuka said. "He's never liked Kazamas, by extension me, so he gave me nothing."

"I was offered your body." Came Kenta's weak croak.

"Kenta, if you openly state your bizarre attractions to her, she won't be giving me, therefore you, any money, will she? The rest of the Yakuza hate you as it is, no need to make them angrier by depriving them of money, is there?" Craig irritably reminded him, before turning back to Asuka. "Now, stop fooling around. Money."

"Got none."

"I'm sure you find this funny, but I don't." Craig's monotone started to crack. "I want the money that Morris, and now you owe me."

"You're beautiful." Kenta said. Craig didn't even bother to tell Kenta to be silent, so irritated by Asuka's stubbornness he was.

"I want that money!"

"I don't have it!" Came the same reply, which made Craig bite his lip.

"My gang could simply kill you and take the money from your account by force! I am doing you a favour so I don't leave any trace, but I will if I must!"

"YOU WON'T GAIN ANYTHING!" Asuka shouted.

"More beautiful than in the photograph…" Came Kenta's whimper as he pushed himself forward, ignored by the other two.

"I HAVEN'T GOT ANY MONEY TO GIVE YOU SO PISS OFF!"

"Stop stalling and tell me when and where to get MY money!" Craig barked more and more.

"DON'T YOU TAKE A HINT?"

"Tell me!"

"I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY!"

"Miss Kazama, if I may…" Came another of Kenta's quiet and perverted statements, but he couldn't finish as Craig wheeled around in blind rage and struck him out of his wheelchair.

"WILL YOU BE SILENT FOR A SINGLE FUCKING MINUTE?" Even Asuka jumped slightly at the sheer volume, vemon and vehemence in the words that escaped Craig Stamford's roar. The other Yakuza stepped back, and Craig looked to them all, before turning back to Asuka. He closed his eyes and paused, breathing through his nose.

"Miss Kazama…" He finally said, calmer but still shaking with fury. "- I'm being kind to you by not having you killed or your family and friend's being killed, and this is the way you choose to repay me? Please, for the sake of everyone you care about, I want my mon…" He stopped, feeling a gun barrel pushing against the back of his head.

"Nobody speaks to me in that fashion." Kenta seethed, nodding to the Yakuza hitman furthest from him. "Check that nobody's around before I kill him." Asuka looked to the other Yakuza agents. One behind Craig, who reminded admirably calm, and two more approaching her, pistols aimed squarely at her. They stopped so that one was in front and one behind, but they got incredibly close indeed. She watched as Kenta wheeled around towards her.

"This is going to be a little odd for you, but I want to see you." He said shakily, and suddenly Asuka spotted something in the sky, looking up. "Fully. If you understand me." He heard his subordinate that he sent to watch for nearing people come back. A thumbs up. Nobody near. Kenta smiled lecherously, looking back to Asuka. "Kazama-chan, you are a beautiful person, and this dress only hides that beauty I wish to…" A pause. "- are you paying attention to me?"

She wasn't.

A blue curtain fluttered easily through the sky, flapping like a weakened bird, before hitting the ground and trailing along towards the rising sun. This journey was something that Asuka watched in unbelieving awe, and she felt her heart start to pound hard against her ribs. Her stomach did a somersault, her brain couldn't process the information. A smile began to creep onto her face, before her bliss was interrupted by a stray hand.

"HEY!" She wheeled around, throwing the hand that had plucked at the bottom of her dress away. Her answer was to have the gun pushed closer to her. She looked back to Kenta, who sneered.

"Kazama-chan, I demand subordination." He seethed. "I'll not mince words any longer. Your dress. Take it off." Asuka's eyes light up as she saw a chance to bring help to her.

"YOU HEAR THAT?" She shouted. "I'M STRIPPING! COME AND FIND ME!" Kenta snarled, before chuckling.

"I'm afraid nobody's here to hear your cries for help." He reminded her, but Asuka pierced him with a fiery sneer, that turned into a malicious and knowing smile that immediately made him wary. He pulled at a walkie-talkie that was strapped to his wheelchair, and placed it to his mouth.

"Do you see anybody coming?"

"No, Kenta-san." Came the sniper's reply. "My scope's firmly on Xiaoyu, but I've checked only a second ago. Nobody's coming from any angle, why'd you… wait, I hear something…" Suddenly a great clank-crank-bash, an incoherent shout, before the walkie talkie cut out.

"Come in!" Kenta shouted. "COME IN! COME…"

That's when Morris came smashing through the window above them.

Morris was looking for an exit, the promise of seeing Asuka naked fuelling his rush, when he saw a man sitting by the window. His eyes were drawn to the rifle, and he guessed that Asuka wasn't actually going to be naked in the near future. The sniper didn't quite see what was happening, was knocked out cold, and accidentally smashed his walkie talkie, unable to warn his friends of the impending danger that was now flying above them.

"Oh fucking hell!" Morris didn't make a perfect landing, smacking straight onto his face as he hit the ground. All stared at him for a moment, then Asuka decided to use the window of opportunity to elbow the man behind her. She then brought her fist forward, hitting the man in front. The man who held Craig pushed him away, aiming his pistol at her.

"Nope." Came a voice, and Morris's knee shuddered into him, shattering the bone instantly, before an elbow was planted straight into his temple, causing his world to fade into black. Morris immediately turned, kicked the fourth and final man in the stomach, before bringing his knee into his face. Then his eyes slowly turned to Kenta, who gulped.

"I see." He murmured, pushing at his wheels, moving backwards slowly. "I'll leave you alone and we'll never…" He bumped slowly into Asuka, who stood behind him, glowering at him as he turned his head. "- mention… this… again?" The answer was a knuckle to his temple, and the left wheel of his chair being broken off.

"Perverted freak." She snarled. She looked to Morris, who gawped at her. "What? You just knocked out two guys, why are you staring at me like…"

"That dress suits you perfectly." He said, before suddenly planting an open palm straight onto her breasts. She batted it away instantly, before finally gazing slowly at him, and before long she had pulled him into a hug.

"I'm so glad you're alive." She whispered in his ear. "It's been hell without you."

"You're glad?" Morris barked. "How'd you think I feel? I nearly fucking died! Three times! WITHIN A HALF HOUR!" He wrapped his arms around her desperately. "I now conclude that I am a god." Asuka smiled.

"Whatever, Morris, but …" She suddenly growled halfway through her sentence. Morris sighed.

"Somebody's pointing a gun at me."

"Only so you don't run away." Came Craig's answer. The voice rattled Morris to the core and he wheeled around. All three were silent what seemed to be a lifetime. The wind visibly picked up. Morris glared at Craig, who kept his dead monotone gaze firmly on him. Morris felt a burning fire in his chest. Here was the man who ordered the mass murder of every Wellington on the planet, and everyone who had associated with them. No one had been spared; siblings, parents, friends, even children. Johnny may have been the killer, but if it wasn't for Craig, he'd still have a family.

"I think all three of us would benefit…" Craig finally began. "- if you, Morris, were to remain 'dead' as it were." He paused, raising his gun and his free hand as a symbol of peace.

"My proposal is this; you are a firm enemy of the rest of Stamfords, who are far less forgiving than I, but I'm still their leader, and they need not know that you are alive and well. Your girlfriend has now made an enemy with the Yakuza, but I can protect both her and her family and friends. You owe me money, and you have made a spectacularly large list of enemies. Johnny was not the only man after your family. Heihachi is most likely going to hold another tournament in another year…"

"I can fill in the blanks." Morris snarled, interrupting Craig. "You want me to win a ton of money for you." Craig didn't bother react.

"Quite so." He said. "Two of you are more likely to achieve a common goal than one alone, and you could ask others to aid you in this goal. You may do as you please once you win and we shall never meet again." Asuka bit her lip.

"You've got some fucking nerve!" She barked. "You first have his family killed, and now you demand that he gives you a load of money! The Yakuza hated Kenta; you said so yourself, so they won't come after or my friends!" Craig blinked as Morris nodded.

"What she said." He said. "I owe you nothing." Craig sighed.

"All right." He said, before throwing his pistol to Morris, to the amazement of the two looking at him. "You clearly hate my guts, so point that gun at me and fire." Morris remained still, looking at the pistol that was on the floor at his feet. "But first, allow me to tell you why I had your family killed." He paused, breathing through his nose.

"Your mother blew up the flat she led the hit-squad following her to. I lost my friends. I lost my father and one of my brothers." Morris looked into the dead eyes as the monotone continued.

"Then, less than two days later, my then-girlfriend was killed by a ten year child!" Craig suddenly shouted, and Morris gulped. He looked to Asuka, who looked back. They knew who that child was. The two saw Craig was now shaking.

"WOULD YOU HAVE DONE ANYTHING DIFFERENT? DID YOU DO ANYTHING DIFFERENT?" All the composure gone, Craig suddenly started to shed tears, as he shook uncontrollably. Morris sighed slightly.

"No, I didn't." He said, picking up the gun. Asuka gasped silently. "But that isn't who I am anymore." He threw the pistol back to the crying Stamford, and Asuka breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll give you an answer later. I'm guessing you'll find me." Craig watched the two leave, and gritted his teeth, but knew that he hadn't quite lost. Neither of them had.

Asuka looked to Morris as they walked away, back in the direction of his own grave. The stern expression didn't last long, and he looked back at her. "What are you staring at? Besides my incredible sexy body and drop-dead gorgeous face?"

"Morris…" She began. "- thanks for not killing him. I didn't think you would, but…" She stopped suddenly. "Morris, if you don't stop doing that, I'm breaking up with you."

"But it's a nice arse!" He shouted defensively. She turned around, raising an eyebrow. "It's very grabbable!"

"That's not even a word, and that's not the point." She said. "And don't think about touching my breasts!" She hit the approaching hands away, but she still smiled.

"BUT THAT'S ALL I THINK ABOUT!" He whined. "I MEAN, HAVEN'T YOU EVER BEEN DESPERATE TO GRAB ANOTHER PERSON'S BODY?" Asuka tried to shake her head, but instead just fell on the floor laughing. "Asuka, I can totally see your panties from this angle!"

"So fucking what?" Asuka finally shouted back, pretending to be seriously, before shaking her head. "No."

"Yeah."

"No!"

"Why not? I'm broke again and I need cheering up."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we are in a fucking GRAVEYARD!" She shouted. "AND I'VE HAD A LOT OF STRESS!" Morris got onto his knees. "I'VE BEEN ATTACKED BY THUGS! I'VE BEEN TO YOUR FUNERAL, THEN YOU JUST SHOW UP AND…" She decided there was no point carrying on, in part because Morris kissed her and the words she had formed in her head were lost as his hand placed itself on her leg and worked its way up her body. They parted lips as her hands leapt to his shirt buttons and her forehead pushed against his.

"Morris Wellington." She said. "You are absolutely intolerable. And you can't make a romantic situation for your life."

"Romantic enough to pull you, though." Came the smug reply. "Because let's face it; I'm fucking awesome."

Author's note: Ah yes. The ultimate cop-out ending. And I felt we had to end this on a funny note. Also, for those of you observing this, I left a slightly open ending for Morris. That was in fact inspired by the game itself. Imagine your own ending to how he turns out. In my opinion, he probably enters the next tournament and nearly wins but gets blindingly drunk and is too hung-over to attend the final. Sounds typical enough, no?

Not a great amount of author's note (too late) because I'm tired after writing all this, and I'm sure you're tired of reading so I'll leave you with a reminder that my sequel to Stockholm Syndrome will be out soon, and that I might go back to one-shots for a small while for practice's sake, once I think of ideas. I've also edited some lines in this one here and there, but I've already posted these updates, so there we are.

Catch you on the flip side, homies.