Fan Fiction ❯ Tag ❯ Beat Him and Reap ( Chapter 3 )

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\/\/\/\/\/`~Tag~\/\/\/\/\/\

Beat Him and Reap

 

Lei Fang woke up the next morning feeling hung-over and over-rested.

 

Am I dead?

 

The training session with Zack the previous night completely drained her. She burrowed deeper into her sheets at the thought of practice, vowing never to go overboard again (At least she wouldn't after the tournament was over). She groaned into her pillow. Hard work was, well, hard work.

I am definitely resting today. Her chrome old-fashioned alarm clock read 8:01. Luckily enough for her, Zack wouldn't be around that day since he had his match with Christie. She sighed, forced herself to throw her covers off and traipsed over to the closet. Her roommate was nowhere to be seen, but a pink star-shaped note was taped to the door.

 

Morning Lei Fang!

 

You slept pretty well last night for someone who was dropped off like yesterday's garbage!

 

She bit her lip in confusion, trying to recall the end of practice. “I definitely didn't come up here myself…Zack must have helped me. That's so nice of him,” she said, smiling absentmindedly. “Hey, she called me garbage!” she added as a second thought.

She continued reading the note.

 

I hear you don't have anything to do today. Why don't you come with me to the city? Someone told me the shopping's great here! Meet me downstairs in the lobby at 8:30, if you ever wake up! :)

 

Hitomi

 

“Shopping?” Lei Fang was now wide awake and excited. “There's no better way to relax! I guess that makes up for the garbage comment.” She had never gone shopping in Japan before.

She checked her clock again. 8:06. “I better hurry!”

 

Racing into the bathroom, she tripped into the shower, almost swallowed her toothbrush, and sped back to the bedroom. She quickly towel-dried her hair.

Lei Fang opened up her closet and picked out a white button-up blouse, short denim capris, and cherry red heels. She twirled her hair up and secured it loosely with some bamboo chopsticks from home. Where's my bag? After a frantic search that left the room in shambles, she found it under Hitomi's bed, shouldered it, and ran out the door.

Across the hall, the elevator doors were sliding shut. She yelled for Brad Wong to hold it for her, and he jammed one of his wine gourds in the doorway. Lei Fang stepped in, trying to catch her breath.

“GÇŽn xiè!” she thanked him. Thump. She looked at him and saw him passed out on the ground, with the wine case in his mouth. She shook her head and sat him up. Her watch read almost 8:30. She quickly rummaged through her purse and pulled out a scrap of paper and a green-ink pen. “I have time for one more quick stop,” she said, pressing floor 8 and scribbling furiously.

 

 

 

 

Hitomi was lounging in one of the plush velvet armchairs in the well-furnished DOA hotel lobby. She settled herself in and idly counted the 24k gold leaves embroidered in the red carpet. 11098…11099…Damn, Douglas is rich, she mused. Just how rich, she didn't know exactly. If the furniture was any indication, then he probably wiped his wealthy European derrière with American C-notes.

She looked around at the tapestries and portraits. Most likely the stiff paid for everything: the hundreds of acres of perfect land, the well-kept fighting grounds, the huge transportation shuttles, the first-class hotel and restaurant on the premises, all the way down to the tiny pillow that was providing her with excellent lumbar support. He made the place, so he probably thought, “Why not name the hotel after me and everything I stand for?” And thus, the Argent et Renommée Hotel was born.

She checked a nearby clock over the lobby fireplace. 8:35. “Oh well. She's probably still asleep,” Hitomi said disappointedly. She got up and smoothed out her short orange top and brushed off her jeans. She grabbed her purse and started walking out, when Lei Fang ran towards her from the elevators.

“Lei Fang?” Hitomi turned around, surprised. “Didn't think you were going to make it!”

She flashed her a grin. “No way. I just had to make a quick detour. Besides, I've been dying to shop here since I got off the plane!” she replied. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem,” Hitomi said, happy to find someone as eager to shop as she was.

 

The two roommates walked out the revolving doors, and started getting to know each other better.

 

 

 

 

Everyone had their priorities. As of recently, Tina's involved making Zack suffer as much as possible. Many were talking about the inter-league competition, and a few from the DOA league were joining, but things were not going as great for everyone. Tina found that out the hard way, trying to hunt Jann Lee down. “Two damn weeks until the tag battles and we haven't even registered yet,” she grumbled.

She trooped around the main building for awhile, knocking down doors and scaring innocent people. She was holding the registration papers in one hand and an unopened diet Coke in her other hand. Finally, after an hour of hot pursuit, Tina found him in the gym. I should have checked here first! She shook her head.

Jann Lee was bench pressing over in a corner. Every one of the few people that were there steered clear of him, but Tina marched straight up to him.

“So, hiding on the big boy's playground, eh?”

Jann Lee didn't slow down. “I don't hide from anyone,” he replied stonily.

Tina whistled. “Someone forgot his oolong this morning.” Maybe the guy was still tweaked about the incident. Naw, that's just how he was born, she decided.

 

He didn't look up. “You know you're going to have a bad day when you wake up to your roommate's…hm, let's just call it singing--” Jann Lee started, “Then you take a shower and there's only cold water left--” He started pumping the bar with a new vigor, “You come back out to put clothes on so you won't die of hypothermia, only to find out he took your favorite shoes too.” By now, he was pumping at 80 mph. Tina looked at the other end of the bench to see Jann Lee wearing some whack orange and green Air Force 1's. She raised her eyebrows and looked back at him. He had started rambling faster. “…no more orange juice, and then you slip on some damn junk mail, probably from an illegitimate roofing contractor, when it's actually a threat from a girl who chases you just to say `Thanks, oh, and by the way, I want to beat you within an inch of your life,'” he mimicked. “So I ripped it up, gave myself a green papercut, walked out the door, and tripped on that drunk, who conveniently chose my welcome mat to be his new futon.”

Tina closed her eyes. Trying to absorb everything he said was enough without being distracted by him imitating a woman. “Shoes…juice…roofing contractor…futon…Zack was in the shower…” Tina paused a second longer there.

Jann Lee raised his eyebrows at her. “I must be right about the omens of a bad day, because here you are.”

She shook her head out of her daydream.

“Look, I'm not here to listen to you whining,” she said angrily. He shrugged and contented himself with pumping the barbell again.

“When did you intend to register us?” Tina was back on track now. She paced back and forth next to him, like an interrogator.

He silently pressed the iron. She looked up at him. “Hey, you,” she snapped. “Chinese guy with the pimp shoes. I asked you a question.”

“What?”

“Maybe if you paid attention, you'd know what I was talking about,” she answered annoyed. “You, me, sign up.” She pointed at the papers. “We have to turn these in soon, the cutoff is like, tomorrow…”

“What are you ranting about?” He went on lifting his weights.

Up, down, up, down…

Tina snapped. “Would you look at me when I'm bitching at you?!” She grabbed the barbell from Jann Lee and hurled it over five feet away from him. “The tag contest, you moron!”

Jann Lee looked at the hole in the ground where the bar landed, stood up and said, “The more you yell, the less people listen to you.” He walked over to the next bench and started pressing again.

Tina was ready to start yelling again anyway, but this time, he interrupted her for a change.

“You didn't think I was actually joining did you?” Pump. “My single match against Hayate is coming up.” Pump. “He's good, but not good enough,” he added thoughtfully. Pump. “Either way, I win on my own.” Pump.

Tina calmed herself down to a suppressed fury. “Then why did you make that challenge to Zack back in your room?” she grinded out.

“I just wanted you to leave me alone so I could finish my book,” he said indifferently.

 

Silence.

 

“You know what?” Tina asked with sudden composure.

Jann Lee glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. That mood swinging is as close as it gets to scary around here.

Tina continued, trying a different approach. “I knew from the start that you were just a laid back guy. Yeah. Granted, lots of other people saw you as an intimidating fighter…even after your manly screaming threw them off.”

Jann Lee held the bar still.

“But no, I saw right through you. You're not a threat! You don't take challenges!” she said, putting her hands up. Then she got progressively louder. “You just sit around and read, take naps between fights, and trade stamps with Gen Fu in rocking chairs!” She silently hoped Gen Fu wasn't around to hear that.

 

Jann Lee stood up and the heavy bar clanged loudly on the floor. “Don't mock me,” he said sternly. “I don't hold punches for anyone.”

Tina stared back. “Big talk, for a senior citizen in sheep's clothing.”

He ignored her. “I could beat anyone in this competition, with or without training.”

Tina nodded. “Alright, champ, then here's a challenge for you: I bet that I could beat you…at weight lifting,” Tina replied, with the first thing that came to mind.

Jann Lee blinked at her. “You're not serious.” It was a statement.

“No really! If I beat you, you have to join the contest with me so we can pound on Zack--um, get exercise. But if you beat me, I'll leave you alone and you'll have my undying respect and admiration.”

“I'm with the you-leaving-me-alone part,” Jann Lee replied.

“Is that a yes?” Tina asked slowly.

“Just powder your hands,” he replied in a self-righteous tone.

Tina smirked. Good thing she picked something she was fairly comfortable with.

She turned around, pointed randomly, and yelled, “You…yeah you! Come here and referee, because this is gonna be a Tina Armstrong Smack-DOWN!” She switched into pro-wrestler mode and called over a scared-looking towel manager.

 

Jann Lee and Tina got on parallel benches, and the temporary referee started them off at 160 lbs. They both pressed it easily.

The referee added another 25 lbs. “Tired yet, Jann?” Tina asked boredly.

“This is nothing,” he replied calmly. He had the impassive look of quiet concentration on his face.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she yelled at the referee. “Fire it up!”

He added a fifteen pound weight on each side of both of their bars, making it uneven for a few seconds. Jann Lee held the bar still so he wouldn't drop it. Tina lifted up her bar with one hand, on the heavier side, until the ref. added the second fifteen pound weight on the other side. She was smiling.

“Daddy and I lift all the time!” she bragged. “I have the hottest pink bench at home, with matching weights.” Just as she said it, Bass came out of the sparring room with Leon.

“Tina?” he asked, taking off his shades and coming closer just to make sure. “Is that you training?” Bragging was obviously in the family, because Bass then said to Leon, “That's my girl! She's just like her Pop!”

“Hey, Daddy, not now, I'm in the middle of a bet,” she called.

He squinted. “With who, that whiny boy?” he pointed at Jann Lee. Then he started laughing. “He doesn't stand a chance! My little girl eats iron for breakfast!”

Jann Lee didn't appreciate being laughed at. “Get out of here! No one said anything about biased cheerleaders,” he demanded.

Leon said, “Fine by me. Let's go, Armstrong. How about lunch?”

At the mention of food, Bass was gone.

 

Meanwhile, the referee added 20 more lbs. to each side of either person's bar.

By now, both competitors had started to struggle. Even Tina had worked up a sweat as her pace considerably slowed down. The towel manager was getting tired just adding them on.

After 30 more pounds were added, Tina was downright bushed. Come on, girl, you got this. But you could only pump iron for so long. She started to put her bar down, when she heard him say, “Enough.”

Beside her, Jann Lee was holding his bar straight over his head. He slowly brought it back down and rested it on the bench. He sat up, and waved his right arm in a small circle.

He glanced at Tina, his expression apathetic--always arrogant, never ashamed.

 

 

“Where do I sign?”