Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ The Stone Lotus ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter Three

Lei had been driving for two days now, only stopping occasionally for gas and to rest. The whole trip had been last minute, sparked by a flood of emotions and humiliation, and now that he was near his destination, he had no idea why he had decided go there of all places.

He had spent the previous day practicing what he was going to say to her, the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the woman that he would had gladly given up everything for. All she had to do was ask. And as he had walked out of the jewery store, Lei stared down at the opened box in his hand and the diamond ring that sparkled up at him.

It had taken him months to decide he was ready for commitment, though he and Wenjun had been been living together for a little over five years. That same day, he had been put on leave from the force for a month; his peers and superiors claimed that it was for Lei's well-being, though he knew better. Somehow, however, that had put his entire life in perspective; he couldn't be a cop forever.

He had treated her like a queen the entire time they had been a couple, to make up for the long hours he worked. Or rather, it was compensation for not only not being around, but for Jun Kazama.

He knew dimly that he still loved Jun, despite the fact that their romance had been brief and bittersweet. It was just that Lei only wished to fix whatever he did wrong with Jun, and he tried desperately to avoid that with Wenjun. However, he soon learned that he couldn't.

Lei found Wenjun in bed with another man when he returned from work. Oddly enough, instead of getting angry, he silently walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. There, he sat down on the couch, grabbed the remote, and flipped on the television as he waited for her other lover to dress and leave. Resting next to Lei was the accursed box, which should had been a simple yet grand gesture.

Lei left that night without saying a word to her, aside from a brisk goodbye.

On his dashboard, the small black velvet box sat, taunting the detective as he drove. It represented everything his life was at the moment: a joke. Some masochistic part of him decided to keep the damned thing, though he knew he should had thrown it away before he had started his trek. Yet there it was, reminding him that everything had changed.

The city limits sign whizzed past, and Lei sighed heavily as he sped towards the horizon of buildings that glittered over the dry skyline, somewhat relieved though still troubled.

It seemed like he always returned there when he needed comfort. Two years ago, he had learned that Jun had passed away; that had been something that never quite sunk in. Even then as he drove, there was a small part of him that wanted to relive the moment when his lips first touched hers, or even just when the two of them talked together at night. That same part of him , however, was keeping that ring on the dash.

*****

Hwoarang awoke to the sounds of a vacuum cleaner roaring in the next room that morning; he had slept on the floor in Julia's room on blankets she had provided. With a yawn, he sat up, stretched, and rubbed his eyes before standing up painfully.

Julia's bed was empty, as he expected, and also to no surprise, it was made up neatly. He chuckled a bit before shuffling to the door to leave, his feet tucked underneath the long legs of his flannel pajama bottoms.

When he emerged from Julia's room, Hwoarang went down the hallway that lead to the living room, where the sounds of the vacuum cleaner rumbled from. He leaned against the wall and smirked as Julia's mother, Michelle, cleaned rather perkily that morning, headphones on over the bandana she wore in her long, dark hair. She was oblivious to the fact the she was being watched and sang along to the No Doubt tune that was being blasted into her ears. With one final long sweep, she finally switched off the vacuum, grinned, and nodded once approvingly at all the cleaning she had done that morning. She then turned off her discman and leaned over to unplug and wrap the cord back around the the vacuum.

Hwoarang's grin grew as he finally stepped in the room.

"Good morning, Mom," he said playfully, startling the older woman. She looked up, and when she saw the boy , sighed with relief and smiled fondly at him.

"Hey, you," she sang as she straightened up and strolled over to greet him. She hugged him, "I'm sorry, I missed you and Jules last night." She pulled away, "I ended up having to stay at the office late and just slept there to save me trouble of driving home."

Hwoarang nodded, "That's okay. We were both pretty worn out anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, at least, I know I was." Michelle then pulled away completely to allow the younger man to enter the room, and she turned to go to the dining room. She beckoned at him to follow.

He loved the brew of tea Michelle made for breakfast, some weird medicial hybrid she proudly proclaimed, of green tea, mint and another strange herb that he couldn't remember the name of, and he could smell the mint when he entered the dining room. The grin on his face broadened as he saw the kettle already set out on the table and a couple of tea cups. He sat down, and his eyes followed Michelle as she trotted into the kitchen and back into the dining room, a bowl of sugar in hand.

"So," the younger man started as Michelle sat down across from him, "Where did Jules take off to this morning?"

"The usual places," she sighed quietly. The older woman poured Hwoarang a cup of tea. "She went off to the reservation to go see her father's family, then I'm guessing she went to cemetery after that." Hwoarang nodded quietly as he took a sip of his warm tea; Michelle poured herself a cup. "I'm surprised she didn't wake you so you could tag along..."

He shook his head, "I wouldn't feel right had I did went along. And--" He took another sip before continuing, "--I don't think she's really forgiven herself or me."

"Sounds like you haven't either, Robert," Michelle replied softly.

"I know, I haven't." Hwoarang looked down at his tea; his reflection frowned up at him from the dark brew in the cup. "It's just..I never really got to apologize to Jin." He sniffed once and looked up; he blinked when he saw that Michelle was smiling gently at him, that warm motherly smile he adored. With a heavy sigh, the younger man managed a weak grin back at her.

*****

"Sorry, I know it was short notice--"

"--Hey, it's not a prob," Paul Phoenix grinned at Lei as he gestured to the other man to follow him. "I like having guests." The blond then led Lei through his small home into a empty room, the "guest room". It was pretty much only furnished with a desk and a couch, but was clean like the rest of the house, something that surprised Lei when he arrived. He never imagined Paul to be a tidy person, considering the blond still was the epitome of the biker image, and that day he wore a white tanktop and a pair of faded blue jeans. Paul's long blond hair was tucked behind his ears, and his face covered with a mustache and beard, not that Lei looked any neater.

The detective was clad in a white oxyford shirt over a white t-shirt, both untucked and wrinkled from his traveling, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. The khaki slacks he wore were crinkled as well, while his dark hair was pulled back into a messy, long ponytail that almost came to his waist. To top off Lei's pathetic, worn appearance, his cheeks were stippled with a five-o-clock shadow, and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"So, are you sure you don't mind me staying here a couple of weeks?"

"Not at all," Paul scratched his cheek as he watched Lei set his bags down on the floor. "I'm usually gone anyways, and I pretty much live at the shop these days...Don't have Hwoarang around to help out anymore."

"I see," Lei nodded. The detective then flopped down on the couch, fatigue finally hitting him. "Anyway, I think I'll take a nap..." He then stretched out and closed his eyes.

"Alright then." With that, Paul exited the room.

Paul casually strolled down the hall, rubbing the back of his neck painfully as he made his way to the living room to watch television. The living room itself was like the guest room that Lei was resting in, stark aside from a couch and a small entertainment center. There were a few pictures on the walls: a framed autographed photo of Jerry Garcia, a print of a Mucha beer muse, various Harley-Davidson memorabilia, and another framed photo of him and Nina Williams taken twenty years ago in Chicago. Paul stopped in front of the photo and smiled remorsefully.

He was startled by how young and happy he looked then, his arms wrapped around the waist of the blond woman and his chin resting on her shoulder as he clung to her. Nina's blue eyes sparkled and almost matched the steel blue sky that they were standing against. It had been sunny that day, the kind of pleasantly mild weather that only existed in storybooks and movies, and the sunlight had made the photo overexposed and dreamlike. In the corner of the picture frame was a polaroid of Nina's younger sister, Anna, at her high school graduation. The snapshot was dark and gloomy compared to the other photo. However, Anna was smiling brightly in her red graduation robes and was pushing a lock of her auburn hair out of her face.

Paul chuckled before kissing his fore and middle fingers then lightly pressing them against Nina's face.

"Somebody loved both you and your sister," he murmured. "Don't you forget it."

With a hearty sigh, the biker then plopped down on the couch, and he picked up the remote that had been lying on there. After a few minutes of flipping through channels, Paul settled on watching reruns of some sitcom he had never liked. He soon nodded off to the sounds of laugh tracks.

He awoke to see that the nightly news was on and, aside from the ghostly light of the television, that it was it was completely dark. Paul yawned and rubbed his eyes, and he sat up a bit to watch. Absentmindedly, he reached for the remote and turned up the volume.

". . .In other news, G-Technologies is facing a large civil suit concerning its medicinal branch, New Vision Medical. No details have been released aside from claims of human rights violations at one of New Vision's facilities in Nebraska. . ."

Paul leaned in as he listened, remote still in hand, and he shook his head in pity.

". . .The recent announcement of the law suits has caused G-Tech's stock prices to plummet. However, most experts are expecting the suits to be settled out of court--"

"Heh, more money hungry people trying to make bank off of tragedy," Paul chuckled as he hastily changed the channel. He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder as he heard a door creak open down the hall. With his head still turned toward the hallway, Paul lowered the sound of the television. He sighed with relief when Lei emerged, rubbing his eyes as he fumbled his way towards the other man.

"Damn, you're just sitting in the dark?" Lei mused as he sat down next to the biker. Paul nodded and turned his attention back to the television; a local commerical for used furniture played on screen. Lei leaned back in his seat, "Anything good on?"

"News just went off. G-Tech's getting sued again."

"Huh," Lei rolled his eyes. "You'd think that after a few major law suits, they'd fold."

Paul shrugged, "They might this time." His eyes were still glued to the television; the biker then sat up a bit and pointed the remote at the television to change the channel again.

*****

Heihachi Mishima sat in his private jet that evening, waiting for take-off. The elderly man's face was drawn down in a tight frown as he stared down at the opened leather binder on his lap. It filled with hastily gathered info that had been sent to him that morning, Photos, letters, data sheets, medical charts, and other archiveable materials were in there, along with a couple of data cds that had been stuffed in the binder's inside pockets. He shook his head once and sighed out of pity as he turned the page to reveal a photo a child wrapped in bandages and sitting in a wheelchair.

He had always been a stern man, however with age Heihachi had become more of a humanitarian. A fear had grown in Heihachi in those twenty years after he regained his company, a fear of the possibility of someone someplace could possibly be as sick as his son had been. The frown beneath his thick grey mustache tightened, and the old man snapped the binder shut, unable to stomach reading anymore. An electronic chime sounded, indicating that the jet was ready for take off.

As the jet flew lazily, the old man watched the sun sink beneath the layers of clouds. From that high up, the sunlight was still hard, though fiery red until finally its light faded into the soft colors of twilight, then evening. The world below twinkled, threads of dainty white and rosey lights, and the plane started ease down towards the ground. And more lights appeared below, and the bright red candy lights of cars' break lights could be seen. Soon, the plane touched ground at a private landing strip.

When the elderly Mishima got off the jet, he was greeted by workers and his driver, most that hadn't ever met him, or if they had, hadn't seen him in years. The old man stood dignified and erect in his black business suit, still a physical powerhouse though in his mid-seventies, and his hair was completely grey and white, balded out on the top, but still the sides and back of Heihachi's head were covered. The color in his eyes had faded since his grandson had died, now light brown and sad. Somehow, the sense that the Mishima empire was going to end soon with Heihachi's passing on eminated from those eyes, something that had always been dreaded within the company until Jin had sought out the older man seven years ago, and now rekindled when they saw the ill-spirited Mishima.

The already darken world was dimmed through the tinted windows of the black sedan that Heihachi in, watching as the weaken street lights emerged and slipped by one by one as he was driven through the little Nebraskan town, and soon the car pulled through a residental area full of old houses, falling apart and frail. There were few porch lights on that evening, yet the driver maneuvered well in the darkness, and soon he found his way out of the maze of run-down homes and out into open, dark highway.

"How far out is this place?" Heihachi asked quietly from the backseat, his gaze still at the window as he squinted, trying to make out the world beyond the tinted glass.

The driver glanced back, "Just another twenty miles or so. G-Tech didn't want anyone knowing about what they were doing."

"I would imagine," the old man murmured. The image of the little girl he saw in that file burned in his memory, the thin fragile child covered in gauze and how twisted her little skeletal frame had been, and her skin, withered and dark like weathered bark. And the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, her mouth gaping as if screaming for help, none of which Heihachi could shake from his mind.

It wasn't long before a large, brick building could be seen, lit up by several spotlights on the back of trucks and the comparatively weak rose colored street lights. The first thought that came across Heihachi's mind was that it reminded him of those archtype mental homes in movies: unbelievably bland, large, and isolated, yet overwellingly sad behind its huge iron fence. The driver was stopped at the gate of the fence by an armed soldier, dressed in a camouflaged uniform and a black beret and boots. The officer glanced into the driver's side window, and when he saw the Mishima, he straightened up and saluted before letting the car pass through the gates. Heihachi looked forward.

The entire outside grounds were swarming with armed soldiers, both government and the personal guardsmen Heihachi himself had dispatched out there that morning as soon as he had gotten the memo. Again, the sedan was haulted again when it pulled up to the entrance by another soldier. Frustrated, Heihachi opened the door and stepped out, startling the soldier. The young man stood up and quickly saluted the elderly man.

"Mr. Mishima," the soldier began still at attention, "Glad that you could make it out in such short notice." The younger man went at ease as Heihachi nodded at him.

"I felt it was an emergency," the old man said softly. "So, this is the fabled New Vision test facilities. Not what I expected at all." The young soldier nodded and gestured to the Mishima to follow him insided. Heihachi obliged quietly.

He gasped when he finally went through the glass double doors. The old, rundown look that was outside had been nothing more than a facade. Just in the lobby, the amount of sophisticated machinery and architecture inside floored Heihachi; there was a complex camera system, and from the lobby, there was a huge screen of monitors showing each of the patients' rooms in the building.

"As you read in that fax we sent," the young man began as he led the elderly Mishima down one of the halls of rooms, "G-Tech had listed this particular operation as a rehabilitation center for burn victims."

"Well, from the photos, it certainly looked like it was," the older man said quietly. As he passed each brightly polished stainless steel door, he noted the electronic locks and entry keypads, each one with a bright red LCD light flashing steadily, indicating that they were locked and armed. Also, all the doors had a single slender window, most darkened that night, though there were a few lights on, and the faces of deformed wards could be seen pressed up againsted the glass, sometimes yelling and beating on the doors desperately as the two men walked by.

"That's what we thought at first," the soldier sighed as he stopped in front of one door. He sighed heavily and hesitated before tapping in a number code on the keypad. There was a faint click then a beep, and the red light on the door turned green and stopped flashing.

"How do you mean?"

The younger man hesitated, "I think...it's best that you see for yourself, sir." The soldier then opened the door to the darkened room slowly and moved out of the way of Heihachi's view.

"What in the world...?" he whispered.

There was a young woman clad in a hospital gown sitting the middle of the floor, legs drawn up to her chest as she rocked back and forth and mumbling to herself. Unlike most of the patients, she wasn't crippled nor her complextion scarred, and she looked forward. There were heavy bags beneath her eyes, and her dark hair was limp and unkept. She went silent then looked up at the two men, and her eyes narrowed. The woman then went back to her chanting and rocking.

" 'They took away my baby'," Heihachi murmured.

"What?" the younger asked as he glanced over at the Mishima.

"She's saying that someone took away her baby. She's speaking in Japanese." Heihachi kneeled next to the young woman and began conversing with her softly in Japanese, asking her questions.

She blinked in shocked when she realized that he understood her, and the girl stood up and began frantically chattering and gesturing wildly as she told her story, which the more Heihachi listened, the more disturbed he became until finally the girl ended with one final motion with her hands. She then sat down on her bed and buried her face in her palms to weep, and the color drained from the elderly man's face as something she had said sunk in. Heihachi stood up numbly.

He turned to the younger man, "She's not wearing an ID bracelet. I need to know her name."

"Uh, just a second." The younger man pulled a walkie-talkie from one of the many pockets on his uniform and spoke into it. He waited a bit and listened to static before he heard a voice answer him, which was too faint for Heihachi to hear what was said from where he stood.

"No name on record, just a patient ID number. There's a couple of other patients listed like that, including the one that escaped."

"One escaped?" Heihachi repeated, lifting a brow in concern.

The other man nodded, "An employee here called the police to report a missing person, despite knowing the dangers. Then we were called in... We basically found a place full of human guinea pigs." Heihachi nodded and slipped out of the room, leaving the weeping woman to herself. The door latched shut and automatically locked itself after beeping once.

"So, I'm guessing," the man continued, "that most of these patients were admitted by family members who didn't know that G-Tech's methods were untested and unapproved by the FDA--"

"--It's much worse than that," Heihachi said quietly. The younger man blinked, confused. "Show me where the escapee was living."

With a quick salute, the young soldier replied, "Right this way, sir."

Again, the two men walked briskly through the halls, trying their best to get past the sounds of crying and banging until the younger man again stopped a darkened room and punched in the number to unlock the door. A click and a beep, and he pushed opened the door. As Heihachi stepped in, the younger man reached inside the door to the wall and fumbled around until he clicked on the lights. Heihachi blinked as his vision blurred to adjust to the sudden brightness, and when he realized what he was looking at he let out an amused chuckle.

The room was well decorated and looked like a lived in apartment, the wall furthest from Heihachi was covered with shelving with books on them. The bed was messed up from where someone had slept, but unlike the others covered in thin white sheets he had saw, this one was had a stylish navy blue quilted bedspread on it. There were framed prints of paintings on the walls, all of which were of landscapes. And in the middle of the room, a wooden dinette set stood; a book sat on the table, its pages marked by a red ribbon bookmark.

"Odd..." Heihachi commented as he wandered over to the bookshelves and plucked a leather binder off of it; he flipped through it nonchalantly for moment, before pausing. The old man's face then darkened with thought as he read, his lips moving silently.

"Sir?" the young man asked.

Heihachi looked up, "Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, fine," he said as he placed the binder back on the shelf. "I'm sorry, the handwriting in that journal caught my eye."

"Really?" the young man said as he pulled his beret off and joined Heihachi in the room. "What about it?"

"It's nothing important really," the Mishima shrugged. "It just looks like my son's handwriting."

"You think...maybe it's he's the guy we're looking for?"

Heihachi shook his head, "No. He's been dead for twenty years." He hesistated for a moment then continued, "His younger brother and I had him cremated."