Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Tekken.

Author's Note: Happy Lars/Alisa Day, everybody! An altered take on a particular part of Scenario Campaign. This is for you, Xion-Z-Forgotten! Hope it's alright! Enjoy, everybody :3



The command overrides my mind and controls my primary functions. The opponent is standing opposite me in the desert landscape. There is an emotion on his face that I cannot identify immediately – the definition only comes to me when I perform a quick search through my database.

They call it 'sadness'.

His image fills my vision – he is dashing towards me, forearm out and ready to strike me – and there are files, moving images in the corners. They show his style, his weaknesses – he relies too heavily on his left leg for support. Therefore, I shall crush it.

The elbow to my face tracks in an arc, coming to rest at my ready-and-blocking forearms. I sidestep to my right as he attempts to sweep me with his right leg – but speed is my asset. I am too fast for this blubbering mongrel – and I throw out my fist into his shoulder, and a circular kick to his torso follows. It sends him far into the background.

Something suddenly stirs in my circuitry and memory banks. There are sparks in my chest, and a file is trying to load in the centre of my vision – it is frustrating, as I cannot see – what is my… subconsciousrealhuman mind trying to show me


The file is gone, the opponent is dashing towards me at a rapid speed, and then he is airborne, a left foot soaring towards me. I block the attack once again and take a horizontal jab at him, left in a small bow – and then my head falls onto his black boot, injuring him. The act has scrambled the circuits in my mind again – that same file is attempting to load. The loading bar is faster than it was previously. The weakness file shuts down as my head flies through the air.

And then the opp – human male – speaks.


The name causes a green light to turn on within me – that is me, that is who I have been designated as – he is addressing me just as my head falls back towards the Earth and reattaches itself to my neck. I am waiting. The file is still loading, and he is approaching.


My left arm soars upward diagonally, and chainsaws erupt out of my forearms, cutting him. And then I dance, and the opponent evades, and his friend – the bird known as a 'raven' pushes hard on my memory banks – shouts for him to duck. His name first, then the command.

The file appears again – it is named now, and it loads much faster – 'Lars Alexandersson' – will be dead soon enough. I am told to destroy him, that is the command – the only thing that is above that program is to survive the battle. The file showcasing his fighting style shuts down like the weakness file before it.

My chainsaws re-enter my forearms. I lunge forward, ignoring the small batters to my cheek and my hip, and throw out a harsh, right punch to his nose, causing him to fall back a few steps. Lars rises, a sweeping hand colliding with my torso, and then he smashes his head into my own, causing me to fall back. There is a shift again – the file has finally loaded, but it is skipping.

I see myself and Lars. We are in a car. We are waiting at traffic lights to pass through the location displayed, to go to – the information from my database is strong… This is after we met with Mr Wang Jinrei. My lips in the movie file are moving, yet there is no audio accompanying it. His face is expressive again – my database registers this as laughter, and I am… smiling, afterwards.

It appears that I have been acquainted with Lars prior to Gargoyle's Perch, and on happier terms. The file has skipped further forward. We are in woodlands, laughing again, and there is an… affectionate expression on his face. I playfully nudge him. He does nothing but smile simply and ask me if we are going to the right place.


His palms collide with my stomach, causing me to drop. Nerves that should not be there are activated, sending pain straight to my mind as he jabs me once, twice, three times, and then there is a blue bolt strike, causing me to bounce off of the ground and involuntarily whine. Then there's a few kicks, and I'm slammed up against a wall before falling to my knees. My hand's to my head, and I shake it, trying to right the wrongs. I don't know what's going on. I feel delusional, even nauseous – I should not have these qualities. I am not human.

The file suddenly has sound, though it is muffled on occasion, and the video is playing at a normal rate. We are by a fountain and have just passed a lady by the name of Christie and her dancing goons. I am speaking about all sorts of things – I hear a passing mention of an air conditioner – but it does not seem that Lars is listening to me in the slightest. My words go in one ear and out the other – and then he smiles again and presses his lips to my cheek lightly, and my heat sensors from back then detected extra warmth. Yet like then, I still understand nothing.


My attempt to stand is thwarted when Lars grabs me by my arm and twists it into an awkward position. I can feel it give way and release a small shout – the noise is highly uncharacteristic, as is the sparking in my chest, and my vision is becoming abstract and distorted. I do not like what I see – I must see more of either world… yet I am unable. I see wisps of the real Lars, his lips pressed together in a firm line as he does what he must to survive and see through his task. I see the file almost as clear as day, where he is holding my hand and pointing out a landmark that I already have in my database, but I had chosen to listen to him anyway.

The world flips to its side – oh, no, that is just me. I fell. The world is not spinning, I am. I appear to have knots in my insides – I believe a human would call this 'nausea'. There are other emotions that I should not be feeling that are breaking through – the sparking in my chest is so strong as the file shuts down and as I see Lars above me. The tightening in my stomach, the aches I feel on my wounds, where my skin has ripped apart and shown the cold interior.


Suddenly, I am alive, and I can see and breathe and feel, feel clearly. My inner human –

- SE.

- is here.

Lars is kneeling by my side, and I hear a faint comment on how my eyes are no longer red, but are green once more. His cape is draping over one side, and the front of his hair is suspended in midair, clinging to almost nothing. I am on my back, and I turn my head slightly to my right and gaze up at him, memorising his features. It feels like it has been so long.


I may not understand human emotions, as they are a complex string of codes that are too much for me to decode in this current build, but I do understand one thing. Whatever human remains within me, be it in my wired mind or pulsing heart, it can identify with whatever Lars feels. The heat of his cheeks… if my body weren't so cold, I am sure I would be able to emulate it whenever he is around too.

There is a water leak by my right eye.

"Alisa," Lars breathes, his hands shaking on his knees, "Are you alright?"

All I can do is smile.


The car memory and woodland memory vanishes, and others go – I begin to reach up to him. I must touch him, I must feel that warmth beneath my gloves. He has done much for me, he is who I wished to be with for what remains of my lifecycle. There is such little strength remaining in my power reserves that it is a true effort to reach him. It is as though he is kilometres away, that the distance is far greater than it truly is.

He seems to somewhat understand my message – he is reaching for me too slowly, "Alisa…"


The fountain memory is gone – what did he do to me there, again? What was the night like? Were there lights? How bright were they? Why were we there? What was my mission with him? What was happening? Why is my vision fading – why is he leaving? Why is there… 'sadness' again? Why is he sad? Lars cannot be sad, he must be strong – he is… I cannot find the file required to complete my thought.

My lips are dry. The leak is much larger than previously anticipated. I sob.


Where am I? Who is this man? Why is he holding my hand? I do not understand the expression on his face – his lips are curving downward, and it reminds me of a hemisphere, but there is no meaning to it. His eyes keep sparkling, and there appears to be liquid decorating the rims – surely it is not raining? I must understand… My arm is –

My world is dark, and the last thing I hear in my conscious mode, an echo on the wind –