Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Bryan's Fury ❯ Bryan's Fury ( One-Shot )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Charlie K 
Are you ready? Then read on...
Anime/Manga: Tekken Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Mystery / Psychological / Suspense / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 12.26.2003 | Updated On: 12.26.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 872 | Status: Completed
Are you ready? Then read on...
Anime/Manga: Tekken Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Mystery / Psychological / Suspense / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 12.26.2003 | Updated On: 12.26.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 872 | Status: Completed
Bryan’s Fury
Charlie Kirby
Disclaimer: Bryan is a Namco trademark character and is being used without their permission for no self-profit blahdy-blahdy blah
The hall was dark, scented like a breeze in lush green mountains in middle of blooming. That smell was about to turn to gunpowder. A masked face peered from the corner. It’s eyes immediately turned their attention to the two cameras placed in the middle of the ceiling half way down the hall.
The figure looked around and pulled out a gun firing on both camera’s and began to run. He ran past lines of paintings looking to date back hundreds of years. He reached a door at the end of the hall and stood back. He brought up his boot and kicked forward leading into the room. He looked around through several roped off pillars holding ancient sculptors, vases, and other artifacts. Then he saw his desired item, a bronze sculptor of a Greek warrior. He punched though the glass that held it and grabbed the sculptor as he heard footsteps coming down the hall.
The man clad in a blue uniform wearing a silver badge on his chest ran down the hall holding a gun faithfully in his hand with his partner behind him. His hair was white, white with the stress of years of running, shooting, and lose. He fell against the wall holding his gun in both hands against his chest.
Thoughts ran through his head, thousands of thoughts in on second. Thoughts of life, love, his job and everything that led him here. He looked to his partner next to him who nodded his head. He was ready, ‘I never was.’
The security guard spun into the room holding his gun out in front of him. “Freeze!” The masked turned and fired a bullet. The security guard looked down. He wasn’t shot. Bur how? Then he heard the voice of knowledge.
“Bryan…” He turned to see his partner lying on the ground, blood spilling from his chest and staining his blue shirt, giving it a brownish purple color. Bryan fell to the ground holding his friend up, “Get em’ Bryan, get em’ for me.” Then, his eyes closed and a soul was whisked away.
Bryan stood and fired a single bullet hitting the man’s shooting hand and charged. The man stood and raised his fist right before a shoulder bore into his side and blood stained hands wrapped around him and pushed him into the ground. Bryan scooted up to sit and the man’s waist and began beating his face. Bloody punch after bloody punch, he began to remember why he was brought so low.
Legs rose behind him and the side a foot hit Bryan in the head and the man grabbed him and threw him off. Bryan stood again this time kicking out, but the man leaned back grabbed his foot and pushed him back, back through a window. Glass shattered, bones shattered, and so did a spirit. Bryan hung onto the edge of the edge of the window, a shard of glass going through his left hand letting a small stream of blood trickle down onto his face. The man looked down at him, his smile hidden behind his mask. He picked two shards of glass and stabbed both of Bryan’s hands, tearing flesh, breaking bone and sending Bryan down……
Bryan woke sitting up, drenched in a warm, moist sweat. He looked around and then down to make sure of where he was. Lying in a bed wearing boxers at a Motel 8, right where he had fell asleep. He looked at his scarred body then at his hands. They, also, were covered with scars, several of them. He reached his hand out and grabbed a remote lying on the nightstand and pressed a button turning on the TV in front of the bed.. He flipped through channels, searching for something would make him forget these dreams he kept having. His search ended with finding some old kung-fu flick. His face almost grimaced thinking back to the King of Iron Fist tournaments and having to fight against all those types. He pressed the button again several times till he found an infomercial.
“Are you feeling tired? Weak? Or you do you still feel your strongest? Either way, stretch your limits with the……” Bryan felt both right now. Something inside of him told he was becoming weaker, but he felt strong, stronger than he had ever felt. Was it the rest of his life energy going to his bodily systems? Or as he simply just growing stronger and old ? Whatever it was, he needed to find Abel again. He was his creator and the only one that could help him. Bryan turned the TV off and lied back down to go asleep.
Bryan looked to his right. He was lying in bed under several covers next to a woman. She had raven black hair, ivory skin, and dark brown eyes that almost sneaked inside of you settled your soul. She leaned over and kissed him on his lips. “Good, night. I’ll see you in the morning,” she smiled as she said it. Then she turned her back to him to sleep. He laid down his head and gazed the beautiful woman, slowly and unwillingly falling into slumber.
A crash, a shot, a clattering. Bryan shot up out of bed and onto his feet immediately. He grabbed a baseball lying in a corner of the room and walked over to the door of his room looking back to an empty bed. He opened the door to hear the woman yelling and the laughing of men. He ran through the hall and into the living room when he heard, “Damn it, bitch!” Then a gunshot. His feet took greater strides into the kitchen where he found two men wearing ski mask standing over the body of lifeless woman. A beautiful woman. A sweet, kind loving woman. A woman he loved. His face lost all color as his grip began to loosen and air flowed into his gaping mouth. Then, his mouth shut, shut tighter than a air locked package and his teeth went over each other making a grinding sound in his ears. His grip tightened as both hands reached the handle of the wooden bat.
The two men looked, one with a gun pointing at him. “Ah, shit, what are going to..” his words were cut off by 300 pounds of force met his firing hand sending his gun to the floor and his hand into pain. “Ah, hell, Larry get out!” His friend was only able to turn around before a long chunk of polished wood slammed into his spinal cord cracking vital vertebrae. He fell to the ground moaning in pain as the new attacker repeatedly battered the gunman. He hit him blindly, not aiming any specific place, just any where his anger driven adrenaline lead his hands.
Larry was turned away from his partner. All he could hear was the cracking of bone, the mess of flesh, and the cries of a dying man. Then a final shattering of bone which sent droplets of wetness onto his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He tasted it. Blood. He tried to turnover but before he could…..
Bryan again awoke jumping from the bed this time. He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t even sure how of his face belonged to him anymore. His memories had faded to dreams, and his dreams became more and more distorted like a jigsaw puzzle strewn about the floor.
He stood and wondered of what his life was to become. He had nothing to live for except for power, power and vengeance. As he walked back over to the bed and his limp body hit the soft mattress, he wondered if he’d ever again feel any emotion except anger.
Charlie Kirby
Disclaimer: Bryan is a Namco trademark character and is being used without their permission for no self-profit blahdy-blahdy blah
The hall was dark, scented like a breeze in lush green mountains in middle of blooming. That smell was about to turn to gunpowder. A masked face peered from the corner. It’s eyes immediately turned their attention to the two cameras placed in the middle of the ceiling half way down the hall.
The figure looked around and pulled out a gun firing on both camera’s and began to run. He ran past lines of paintings looking to date back hundreds of years. He reached a door at the end of the hall and stood back. He brought up his boot and kicked forward leading into the room. He looked around through several roped off pillars holding ancient sculptors, vases, and other artifacts. Then he saw his desired item, a bronze sculptor of a Greek warrior. He punched though the glass that held it and grabbed the sculptor as he heard footsteps coming down the hall.
The man clad in a blue uniform wearing a silver badge on his chest ran down the hall holding a gun faithfully in his hand with his partner behind him. His hair was white, white with the stress of years of running, shooting, and lose. He fell against the wall holding his gun in both hands against his chest.
Thoughts ran through his head, thousands of thoughts in on second. Thoughts of life, love, his job and everything that led him here. He looked to his partner next to him who nodded his head. He was ready, ‘I never was.’
The security guard spun into the room holding his gun out in front of him. “Freeze!” The masked turned and fired a bullet. The security guard looked down. He wasn’t shot. Bur how? Then he heard the voice of knowledge.
“Bryan…” He turned to see his partner lying on the ground, blood spilling from his chest and staining his blue shirt, giving it a brownish purple color. Bryan fell to the ground holding his friend up, “Get em’ Bryan, get em’ for me.” Then, his eyes closed and a soul was whisked away.
Bryan stood and fired a single bullet hitting the man’s shooting hand and charged. The man stood and raised his fist right before a shoulder bore into his side and blood stained hands wrapped around him and pushed him into the ground. Bryan scooted up to sit and the man’s waist and began beating his face. Bloody punch after bloody punch, he began to remember why he was brought so low.
Legs rose behind him and the side a foot hit Bryan in the head and the man grabbed him and threw him off. Bryan stood again this time kicking out, but the man leaned back grabbed his foot and pushed him back, back through a window. Glass shattered, bones shattered, and so did a spirit. Bryan hung onto the edge of the edge of the window, a shard of glass going through his left hand letting a small stream of blood trickle down onto his face. The man looked down at him, his smile hidden behind his mask. He picked two shards of glass and stabbed both of Bryan’s hands, tearing flesh, breaking bone and sending Bryan down……
Bryan woke sitting up, drenched in a warm, moist sweat. He looked around and then down to make sure of where he was. Lying in a bed wearing boxers at a Motel 8, right where he had fell asleep. He looked at his scarred body then at his hands. They, also, were covered with scars, several of them. He reached his hand out and grabbed a remote lying on the nightstand and pressed a button turning on the TV in front of the bed.. He flipped through channels, searching for something would make him forget these dreams he kept having. His search ended with finding some old kung-fu flick. His face almost grimaced thinking back to the King of Iron Fist tournaments and having to fight against all those types. He pressed the button again several times till he found an infomercial.
“Are you feeling tired? Weak? Or you do you still feel your strongest? Either way, stretch your limits with the……” Bryan felt both right now. Something inside of him told he was becoming weaker, but he felt strong, stronger than he had ever felt. Was it the rest of his life energy going to his bodily systems? Or as he simply just growing stronger and old ? Whatever it was, he needed to find Abel again. He was his creator and the only one that could help him. Bryan turned the TV off and lied back down to go asleep.
Bryan looked to his right. He was lying in bed under several covers next to a woman. She had raven black hair, ivory skin, and dark brown eyes that almost sneaked inside of you settled your soul. She leaned over and kissed him on his lips. “Good, night. I’ll see you in the morning,” she smiled as she said it. Then she turned her back to him to sleep. He laid down his head and gazed the beautiful woman, slowly and unwillingly falling into slumber.
A crash, a shot, a clattering. Bryan shot up out of bed and onto his feet immediately. He grabbed a baseball lying in a corner of the room and walked over to the door of his room looking back to an empty bed. He opened the door to hear the woman yelling and the laughing of men. He ran through the hall and into the living room when he heard, “Damn it, bitch!” Then a gunshot. His feet took greater strides into the kitchen where he found two men wearing ski mask standing over the body of lifeless woman. A beautiful woman. A sweet, kind loving woman. A woman he loved. His face lost all color as his grip began to loosen and air flowed into his gaping mouth. Then, his mouth shut, shut tighter than a air locked package and his teeth went over each other making a grinding sound in his ears. His grip tightened as both hands reached the handle of the wooden bat.
The two men looked, one with a gun pointing at him. “Ah, shit, what are going to..” his words were cut off by 300 pounds of force met his firing hand sending his gun to the floor and his hand into pain. “Ah, hell, Larry get out!” His friend was only able to turn around before a long chunk of polished wood slammed into his spinal cord cracking vital vertebrae. He fell to the ground moaning in pain as the new attacker repeatedly battered the gunman. He hit him blindly, not aiming any specific place, just any where his anger driven adrenaline lead his hands.
Larry was turned away from his partner. All he could hear was the cracking of bone, the mess of flesh, and the cries of a dying man. Then a final shattering of bone which sent droplets of wetness onto his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He tasted it. Blood. He tried to turnover but before he could…..
Bryan again awoke jumping from the bed this time. He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t even sure how of his face belonged to him anymore. His memories had faded to dreams, and his dreams became more and more distorted like a jigsaw puzzle strewn about the floor.
He stood and wondered of what his life was to become. He had nothing to live for except for power, power and vengeance. As he walked back over to the bed and his limp body hit the soft mattress, he wondered if he’d ever again feel any emotion except anger.