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The only thing that gave him true, intense pleasure was seeing the faces of his enemies twisted in pain from the blows he dealt.
Nothing compared to that vision.
Sure, it would’ve been nice to still feel taste or touch, but in the end, it wasn’t the end of the world not to savor the taste of blood or feel his target’s flesh tear beneath his fists.
Yeah, causing pain had become almost a drug for him.
He dove into every battlefield with a single thought in mind:
KILL.
But he was getting tired of running around hunting down miserable little soldiers. It was time to draw out the big fish.
He’d done a little research and discovered he was near an old G Corporation facility, supposedly abandoned five years earlier. But if that wasn’t the case… well, he’d “clear it out” quickly.
He set off down one of the many dirt roads cutting through the southern woods, the kind that would send chills down most spines. Fallen trees lined the path, probably struck by lightning, now forming a moss-covered green wall on either side. Dead leaves formed a thick brown carpet underfoot.
Farther ahead, the path curved toward a stream, and finally, signs of human presence emerged: wooden stakes connected by rope fencing off the path. An old wagon sat abandoned, its back-right wheel submerged in the water, and beyond it, a villa loomed in all its majestic decay.
Two short stone walls flanked the main entrance, sealed off by a wrought iron gate strangled by climbing vines—like the rest of the surrounding wall. A rusted chain was all that kept it shut.
He placed a hand on it and snapped it off with a slight motion, tossing it aside before swinging the gate open.
The courtyard, square in layout, wasn’t in better condition. Vines ruled here too.
He walked to the center and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You coming out, or do I have to come find you?”
His voice, low and rough, echoed unanswered for a few seconds. Then, from the archways that once adorned the inner fencing of the courtyard—now resembling watchful, hollow eyes—figures emerged. About twenty men peered down at him.
They looked like him—aged prematurely, some even with bluish or greenish skin. Other cyborgs. No… not like him.
He was perfect now, thanks to that deluded Boskonovich.
They were falling apart.
Did they know it?
One of them, clearly the leader—a green-skinned, dark-haired man with a bare chest—stepped forward, eyes wild.
“THIS IS OUR BASE! You’re not welcome here, Fury!”
he roared, throwing a punch that landed square on Bryan’s left cheek.
The man didn’t flinch. In fact, a grin stretched across his bloodstained face.
“Funny… Now it’s my turn.”
Bryan grabbed the man and executed his favorite move: the guillotine.
To the others, it was like witnessing an execution.
In a fraction of a second, the grey-haired man had taken down their leader—who made no sound, couldn’t have, not with his neck snapped in two.
“Anyone else?” he taunted, arms wide open like a showman begging for volunteers.
No one moved.
He walked calmly to the villa’s front door and opened it. Inside, things looked different.
There was electricity.
Cameras, too—planted in every corner, covering every angle.
Perfect.
He just had to find the surveillance room and activate them.
Outside, the group of cyborgs gathered around their former leader.
Without a boss, they were nothing. But they remembered the plan they’d been putting together.
They decided to speak to the newcomer—clearly, he’d want revenge too.
In the past two weeks, thefts, assaults, and crimes had surged in the area.
A police report—leaked by a G Corp sympathizer—mentioned that all traces led to the northern woods.
Kazuya quickly connected the woods to an old G Corporation residence/lab nearby.
Keen to look like a hero (and annoy his son in the process), he decided to send someone to investigate.
At that moment, his office door opened, and the silhouette of his bodyguard stepped in.
Walking on towering heels, Anna Williams sauntered toward her boss.
“Bruce is still busy with that desert mission. Lost a few men, nothing critical,” she said as she approached.
Kazuya sat on his black leather chair, legs crossed, fingers steepled in front of his face.
“Check that file,” he said, motioning with his chin.
She perched on the edge of the desk, reaching for the papers and purposefully revealing a deep cleavage.
Even if they hadn’t ended up in bed since the second Tournament, Anna still enjoyed teasing him.
She pulled out a few sheets, crossed her legs, and read silently.
Kazuya remained silent, lost in thought.
“Already have someone in mind for the mission?” she asked, bored.
She had agreed to work with him to locate her sister, but after three months of nothing, she was fed up.
He looked at her, still distant, then nodded.
Anna raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Didn’t you say you were getting rusty and needed real combat to prepare for your sister?” he replied, grinning.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead with manicured red nails.
“Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut,” she muttered.
“I’ve got a hair appointment tomorrow morning and—”
“Cancel everything,” he interrupted, bored.
“Come on, Anna. You were Tekken Force.”
“Exactly. Were,” she snapped back.
He stood and approached.
“It’s an order.”
She huffed and slid off the desk, walking to the door without looking back.
“Oh—” he added, making her glance over her shoulder.
“Be careful with the nails.”
He smirked as she left, muttering something in Irish that was probably a curse.
—
Three hours later, she was deep in the forest.
The weather wasn’t great. A chilly breeze cut through the trees.
She regretted choosing a tight black leather suit for stealth, complete with stilettos and an open zipper showing off her cleavage.
“They’re probably men. I’ll floor them with my charm!” she’d said.
Now she just hoped they weren’t a rare gang of female thieves—and if they were, hopefully lesbians.
Eventually, she found her rhythm on the uneven terrain and spotted the outline of the building.
“Finally. Let’s find a good vantage point.”
She pulled out a pair of binoculars and moved east to survey the facade.
Most windows were broken, others banged in the wind. The inside was too dark, so she switched to night vision and resumed her scan.
There—someone was staring straight at her. No… not “at her.” Right at her.
Zoom in.
Normal mode.
Shirtless. Muscular.
Scars.
Neck tattoos.
Red bandana on the arm.
Grey hair.
Definitely Bryan Fury.
She grabbed her radio, holding it carefully to avoid lip reading.
“Anything interesting?” came Kazuya’s lazy voice.
“A little. You know that cyborg from the last tournaments?”
“He’s staring right at me. Not sure if he’s alone. I’ll check.”
Bryan hadn’t moved. Not even breathed.
Did he need to?
Suddenly, he pointed a rifle at her.
Anna dove behind a tree, just in time to avoid a hole in her stomach.
“Not exactly a gentleman,” she muttered coolly.
“Agreed,” Kazuya replied, sounding amused.
“Bring him in.”
“HOW, exactly?” she snapped, but he’d already hung up.
She took a deep breath and picked up a branch, holding it against her chest as she devised a plan.
She threw it to the right. The moment it moved—bam bam bam—bullet holes shredded it.
She bit her lip.
Why did I stand there gawking?!
She peeked again.
He was still watching.
And then… he waved her forward.
Then disappeared inside.
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” she yelled, sprinting toward the villa.
No weapons. No plan.
How the hell was she supposed to beat him?
Maybe… seduction?
Suddenly, three lesser cyborgs intercepted her.
They weren’t like Bryan.
Weaker.
Nearly falling apart.
But they stared at her with hunger.
She smirked.
“Hi. I’m lost. Can you help me?”
One stepped forward, licking his lips.
She grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, snatched his gun, and shot the others in the eyes.
Then: broken neck, spinning kick, blocked attack, backflip—
And then—
CRACK!
The last cyborg’s neck snapped.
Bryan.
Grinning.
He looked at Anna.
“Now you kill each other too?”
“No. I kill them,” he said, launching two punches.
She dodged.
She was faster.
But every hit she failed to avoid hurt.
He didn’t slow down.
She collapsed after twenty minutes, unable to stand.
Bryan, fresh as ever, loomed above.
She wouldn’t beg.
No way.
“No one’s going to have the honor of killing me. NO ONE.”
That thought fueled her.
She forced herself upright.
He stared.
She reminded him of something…
His own death.
Fighting to the bitter end in Hong Kong.
He liked her.
In his twisted way.
“So what did you want from me?” he asked like they’d just met.
“Nothing really,” she groaned.
“Kazuya Mishima asked me to bring you in.”
She leaned against the gate.
The courtyard was a mess of blood and bodies.
“You could’ve just said that,” he replied.
“Can’t wait to kill your boss too.”
And with that, he walked off.
She stared, stunned.
He’d nearly killed her—and now wanted to follow?
She tried to keep up but fell behind.
An hour later, he noticed her absence.
Turned around.
She was collapsed against a tree, feverish.
He approached to mock her—
But then her radio crackled.
“Anna. Do you read? Anna.”
“I read you. Send a chopper. The target’s… cooperating.”
She looked for a landing zone. Found a clearing.
Tried to get up. Failed.
Cursed Kazuya.
Bryan shook his head.
“You’re a mess, woman.”
And hoisted her over his shoulder.
“HEY, EASY!” she protested, wriggling.
He ignored her.
At the clearing, he dumped her onto the ground and sat down to wait.
Half an hour later, G Corp soldiers helped her onto the helicopter.
Bryan followed.
He noticed their eyes—on her chest.
She didn’t seem to mind.
So, out of sheer spite, he zipped up her suit.
Murderous glares from the soldiers.
A smug look from Anna.