Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ The King of Iron Fist Tournament 6 ❯ Deception ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

"That's enough. Stop insulting me."

"What? What the hell are talking ab-"

As their taxi finally pulled up to the entrance of the Mishima Mansion, Doren quickly left the vehicle and headed for the trunk to collect his bag, as Hwoarang followed suit. The two fighters gave their invitation to a guard wearing sunglasses, and were allowed through the front gate.

"What gives, man? What are you-"

"There was absolutely no sincerity in your voice," Doren stopped walking as he interrupted Hwoarang. "The tone of your voice clearly showed resentment, and I'm beginning to think it's because I am military brass. The entire conversation we had on the way here was just a ruse to lighten up to me so you can have that much more fun beating me senseless."

Hwoarang just stood there for a moment, blinked a few times, and then let out a chuckle. Early in the Korean's career, he would make bets with rival gangs, making the wagers seem in their favor by acting nice about it...until it was time to smash their face. This, however, was the first time anyone had ever figured it out beforehand. Yet Hwoarang refused to let this army bastard get the better of him. "Goddamn, you are one strange SOB. How the hell did you come up with this?"

Doren smiled and said, "Because only deserters and cowards feign respect for the military if they had previous experience. Which, might I ask, are you?"

"WHAT!?" Hwoarang threw his bag down and kicked Doren in the face and smashed his glasses, but the Israeli man didn't even flinch as he removed the foot from his face, and gave a slight twist of Hwoarang's leg that made the red-headed man wince. Then Doren pushed the leg away and touched his face to see if he was bleeding. "Come friend," he said calmly as he put down his bag and got out a pair of fresh glasses. "Let's go inside. I'll get you a drink."

Hwoarang was about to charge when he heard an all-too-familiar voice.


Hwoarang froze in place and slowly turned around to see a gray-haired man with an unkempt goatee and formal dress attire. "M-master...this guy..."

"-is exactly right!" Baek slapped Hwoarang in the face, and then kicked him in the shins. "You are a deserter, and have no respect for your country or your fellow martial artists!"

Doren couldn't help but feel sorry for Hwoarang as he kneeled in pain while Baek continued raving on. It went on to a point where he just couldn't bare it anymore. "Excuse me, sir..."

"Please, go about your business. We shall follow you inside when my pupil is ready to formally apologize." Baek picked up Hwoarang by the ear and was about to continue his rant when Doren stepped forward. "There's really no apology necessary. I'm sure we're all a little bit discontented with the military every now and then. In the meantime though, I would really like to talk to you Mr. Do San."

Baek loosened his grip on Hwoarang's glowing ear and looked at Doren. "You know my name? Are you a fan, per chance?"

"Of course, it was your performance alongside the rest of the King of Iron Fist 2 competitors that inspired me to become a martial artist," Doren watched Hwoarang slip away and pick off his bag before smiling at him and chuckling as the Korean man stuck up his middle finger and stormed through the door of the Mishima Mansion...