Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted characters in my stories.
A/N: I edited the first chapter because the first one sucked.
Steve Fox remembers things that never happened to him. It was obvious because these memories were of a woman's. He joins the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4 only to find out who this woman is and what she knows about him. Set in Tekken 4.
One night when I was a child, I woke up in a sweat and then called out for my mother. She ran into my room, aware of the terror in my voice. She tried telling me soothing words but I was still shivering in her arms. My father then came in and asked me what all the ruckus was about, but I couldn't answer them. It was too gruesome to even explain.
"I'll get him some water and tuck him in," said my mother. My father nodded and patted my forehead before leaving. I distinctly heard my mother scolding him for letting me watch the alien movie earlier. He retorted by telling her she shouldn't have given me hot chocolate before going to bed. They were both wrong.
What I saw had nothing to do with aliens nor was it caused by my mom's hot chocolate. The next night, it happened again. This time I screamed when I woke up. Apparently, they assumed I was going through a phase where nightmares were rampant. Still, I didn't tell them about my dreams.
The next few nights were fairly quiet so my parents managed to breathe a sigh of relief. That was only until I woke up again, but this time I was crying. Not tears of terror but sadness. My parents assumed another problem. Maybe I was depressed, but somehow it was unbelievable. I was very happy. In fact, I only became grim and morose around the first time the dream occurred. This happened every now and again until it became a nightly ritual. I was either scared out of my mind, or depressed into my shorts.
My parents decided it was time to bring out the big guns. I was scheduled for an appointment to Dr. Patty McGee. She was a psychiatrist. Since I wouldn't tell my parents about my dreams, maybe I would open up to a professional. I was a kid. I was ashamed to tell my parents about my dreams. They were improper and disturbing. They'd probably think I was crazy and apparently even if I didn't tell them, they still thought that.
"Hello, Steve," said Dr. McGee. It was a funny name for such a prim and proper lady. She was as tall as my father and had the same hair as my mom, strawberry blonde. She looked at me sharply, but her facial expression was gentle.
"You can call me Patty," she said gently. She smiled and held out her hand for me to take. I reluctantly did and was led into her office. I looked back once more at my parents feeling as if I was walking into my imminent doom. My mother smiled encouragingly and my father gave me a thumbs up. Even with their happy and smiling faces, I knew they were troubled with my situation. Imagine how they would feel if they knew what I saw?
Patty, I liked calling her Patty, gestured for me to sit on an armchair in front of her desk. She walked around it and sat on her own chair.
"Do you know why you're here, Steve?" she asked. I nodded my head but refused to divulge anymore.
"I'm not sure if you do so I'll tell you," said Patty. "Your parents told me that there's something bothering you. Can you tell me what it is?" I shook my head again.
"Would you be more willing to tell me if I told you I won't tell your parents?" she asked. I looked incredulously at her knowing that she would tell my parents what I'd tell her once I wasn't around. I shook my head more firmly.
"Take a look at this waiver," said Patty. She held out a sheet of paper with writing on it. "Wait a second," she set it on her table and used a magic marker on it. "Now look at what I've high-lighted." I took the paper from her and read the line.
"No information that is volunteered will be revealed without consent from the patient." I looked up at her and shoved the paper back at her.
"I'm ten years old, Patty. You don't think I know that that's a scam? I'm not that stupid." I snapped at her. The thing that I hated the most were liars. I hated their guts. My parents never lied to me and I never did.
The edge of her mouth curved into a smile and then she laughed. This time I looked at her as if she were an alien. "Okay, you caught me!"
"I'm not allowed to divulge any information to people except for your parents since you're still a kid."
"Glad to know," I said dryly. "Now can I go?" She shook her head and stood up from her chair. She sat on the other armchair beside me and looked at me contemplatively.
"You're a smart kid. I bet that you know that I can help you with you're problems."
"I don't need help."
"Oh but you do. According to your parents, your emotional outbursts happen after you wake up in the middle of the night. Obviously, these outburst stem from an image in your mind or a hallucination. Basically, you're having nightmares." Her unprecedented pause made me want to tell her about them, but I kept my mouth shut.
Since I wouldn't talk, she continued. "Would you believe me if I told you I can stop them?" That got my attention.
"How?" I asked.
"I'm a trained hypnotist as well, check out my credentials." She pointed over behind me where a framed document said that she was indeed a certified hypnotherapist.
"Okay," I said excitedly. "Can you do it now?" She shook her head which made me scowl.
"I need to know what your problems are before I can solve them," she said matter-of-factly. I held my hands up and made a move towards the door.
"Wait!" she called out. I turned around to see if she changed her mind. "If you do this, I promise you that I will help you. I can get rid of these nightmares. I promise." I sighed and went back and sat on the chair.
"Now, start from the first night." She took out a tablet and set it on her armrest and prepared to take notes.
Two hours later. I was exhausted from reliving all the nightmares and telling this complete stranger all about it.
"My God," Patty said finally. "You definitely need my help."
"Steve! Steve! Can we get your autograph?"
I glanced at the tiny blonde girl waving her poster of me and calling out my name. Three hundred other girls were screaming the same thing and had an assortment of other paraphernalia for me to sign. As usual, Tony Bolero, my agent, manager and coach had to tell the security guards come to our aid. I waved one last time before I entered the back door that led to the boxing arena.
"Every match, they just keep on multiplying!" Tony observed. "Do fans mate with other fans and reproduce?"
"Who can blame them?" I replied jokingly.
"That's a nice retort, Mr. Humble!" replied Tony. Tony was a large balding Italian man with a jovial laugh. He became sort of a father figure to me when my uncle left me. He was the one assigned to take care of me after my parents died in a car crash.
Six years ago, my parents were supposed to pick me up at school. It was a rainy day, the rainiest of all the days I've ever known. They stopped picking me up from school when I was twelve but that day, they insisted on it saying that it was going to be a while before the rain stopped.
I waited and waited. The rain finally stopped. But they never came. I walked back to our house which was way across town. When I reached downtown, there was a crowd gathering on Main Street.
I made my way through it trying to ask what happened but no one wanted to bother with a nosey fifteen-year old kid. I finally saw what all the commotion was about. There was huge pile-up in the middle of the intersection. Firefighters were trying to douse the flames that not even the rain could stop. Police cars were scattered around with ambulances everywhere. I felt sorry for all the people who were involved.
"This one here's Fox." I heard a police officer say. His back was turned to the crowd but it was obvious he was holding out the registration for the car. How he got it, I would never know. His partner was squatting on the pavement in front of a brown station wagon. The same station wagon that my father said wasn't cool enough for me to inherit. The same station wagon that my mother said would be perfect for me since it was as safe as safe can be.
Obviously, it wasn't, I thought to myself. If it was so safe, it wouldn't be pinned under four cars with barely any space left for a dog to crawl in. While thinking about this, I didn't realize I was walking over to the wreck. I didn't notice the police officers pulling me away from it. I didn't see the crane moving the cars off. I didn't notice all of this because I was looking at a hand that was jutting out of the wreck. I didn't know if it was still connected to the person inside but all I knew was that it was wearing the diamond ring that my father gave my mother and the washer that I gave her as a birthday present when I was five.
"I bet you had as many fans even when you weren't a star, didn't you?" said Tony. I shook my head while laughing.
"Only half as much," I joked. "Where's our locker room again?" We were walking down a long hall with whitewashed walls and doors without labels. My entourage was following close behind. There was my publicist, Karen Potter and Tony's seconds, Jim and Tim Dillon.
"Ah there it is!" said Tony. He led us all to the end of the hall where a lone room had an embossed star with my name on it. He opened the door and let the security guards go inside first. As soon as they stepped inside, they slowly backed out and in front of them, several men were pointing handguns.
"Mr. Mishima wishes to speak with Mr. Fox," said the tallest.
""You got an appointment?" Tony challenged. I held out my arm to prevent him from stepping in front of me.
"Make it fast," I said curtly. They stepped back from the door and let me through. Tony wanted to come inside as well but the men closed the door on him. I erected a defensive stance just in case they tried something funny.
"Steve Fox," said an intimidating voice behind me. I turned around abruptly and came face to face with an old man with spiky white hair and a physique that was somehow level with mine.
"My name is Heihachi Mishima." He announced.
"If you're gonna kill me," I said to him. "You picked the wrong guy." The man laughed boisterously and stood up from the bench. A deafening roar from the corner of the darkened room startled me. I saw it was bear larger than any I've ever seen and it seemed to be laughing with the old man.
"Why would we kill you? I consider you as a friend."
"What do you want?" I asked.
"It's simple really," said Heihachi. "I want to benefit from your skills like any other wealthy tycoon around here." I stood up straight and grinned at him.
"You won't have any problem then," I said confidently. "Place everything you have on me and I'll make you the richest guy on earth."
"Oh no," said Heihachi. "You misunderstood." I was a little confused at his statement but he offered to elaborate.
"I'm betting a huge amount of money on your opponent. You know what would happen if you won the match. So I wanted to make sure that you did the exact opposite."
"What?!" I exclaimed. "Are you insane? Maybe senile? I'm Steve Fox! I've never lost a match in my life."
"I am not insane. I am also not senile." Heihachi said calmly. "I'm merely a wise, business-minded tycoon."
"Are you kidding me, old man?" I scoffed. "I think we're done here. I need to get ready." I pointed a finger towards the door but Heihachi stood on the same spot and looked at me amusingly.
"The thing is, Steve, we are not done."
"Why don't you just go and fu-" In a flash, the large bear was on top of me roaring his guts out and holding his razor-sharp claws right next to my throat. He was roaring incoherently which made Heihachi laugh.
"That's right, Kuma. We all hate potty-mouths, don't we?" said Heihachi. He squatted down on the floor next to my head and patted my hair.
"You don't really have a choice," said Heihachi. "Now, don't just go and get yourself knocked out. Drag it on a bit until the third or fourth round. We don't want anyone to get suspicious now, do we?" He stood up and snapped his fingers. The bear, named Kuma, got off of me immediately and followed him outside along with his bodyguards.
I stood up and brushed off the dirt off my clothes. Tony and the others came bustling in and crowded around me asking questions.
"What happened, kiddo?" asked Tony.
"What did they want, Steve?" asked Karen.
"Anything hurt?" Tim and Jim asked simultaneously.
"Everything's fine," I told them. "The guy just wanted an autograph."
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