Thanks to spongecake 2 for this one. Set to 30 Seconds to Mars' (JARED LETO HEARTHEARTHEART!!) 'Attack'. Um, sorry if it didn't turn out too good or the way you expected it or both. Dedicated to all the flamers and weeaboos. A pox on your idle, talentless, wannabe-ish, and ultimately disgraceful forms. It's 'fans' like you who give your characters/pairings a bad name…
Disclaimer: If I did own Tekken, there'd be no more robots, animals, or pig-tailed anime clichés.
D'you know what rage feels like?
It's like heat. Cold, acidic heat. Quite the paradox, eh? But what would you know, being the lumpy mass of useless muscle and flesh that you are. Go ahead and take refuge behind those dull, beady eyes of yours. You're already dead before you're gone.
So, who am I to tell you about the difference between us both?
Like water is to fire, I am to you. Fighting fire with fire? Stupid expression, in my opinion. Why would anyone want to get even when they can settle for complete and utter annihilation?
Are you surprised?
Well, so am I.
Blond, blue-eyed Steven Fox. Perfect gentlemen, everyone's best friend, confident, cock-sure, preppy little Oxford grad in freshly starched shirt and shiny boots. But not today, my friend, not tonight…
Tonight, there's more than just a championship belt on the line. It's more than just a pugilistic form of entertainment for the cold and hungry masses. It's about strength greater than mere brawn, mind-games that exceed child's play, and the raw brutality of pride. Trust me, I should know. I shouldn't even be here in the first place. I shouldn't be alive, I shouldn't have even made past what I've been through…
But that's over now. It's in the past, at the bottom of murky waters.
So what if I came from nowhere?
I'm not afraid of you.
I'm not weak.
I'm not small.
Welcome to reality, my trembling opponent. Try and break me if you can. That is, if you can catch me. Heh, formless, aren't I? Watch me slip through your fingers like rain and then pound you like thunder. Watch me as I shatter what's left of your vanity into bits and pieces of crumbs onto the ground. I'll step on them and grind them beneath my feet just because I can. Was that a cry I heard? Good.
Ah, Mother. Wouldn't you be proud of me?
I'm like the wind. Swift and non-existent to your eyes, cold and unmerciful as I lash. I'm like a blade. Hard as steel with a talent for drawing pictures in blood. Not very pretty, aren't they? Get used to it anyway. My world turns red as soon as that brass bell rings in my ears. And you're the dummy that I get to take it out on.
As the adrenalin pumps through me faster, the rain turns into a hailstorm. The water turns to ice, jagged and piercing. Unrelenting, unforgiveable, unexpected. Skin cracks open, bones snap like twigs, and saliva mingles with blood as it spurts from your mouth…
What's the matter, chump? Am I too fast for you?
What a pity. I suppose I'll have to put you out of your misery then…
Here's a tip, mate: Don't underestimate me.
Run away, run away, I'll attack… (sticks tongue out at weeaboos).