I am literally sick of looking at this thing. It's taken me nearly a year to complete, edit, and find inspiration. But Idiosyncratic lives to be a labour of love. This is a challenging story, in terms of execution and characterisation, so pity me. *cries* Because my MS word has packed up, I've been editing this in my college library. When I leave for exams in three weeks, I don't know what I'm going to do...sneak in though the window, perhaps?

Disclaimer-Don't own Tekken.

Chapter 3

Helicopter.

Haha.

It had been naïve to assume that they were about to enter some state of normalcy. Raven's midriff ached from the steel hold of Yoshimitsu, no doubt caused by their current, uncomfortable position. The seemingly clumsy ninja could certainly grip when he wanted to, as Raven had been forced to find out. Yoshimitsu's arm was whirring in the air above them. He had expected Yoshimitsu to display even a speckle of fatigue or tiredness, (as Raven was no mere scrap of a man for anyone's pleasure,) yet there wasn't even a puff of effort from the thing's lungs. Unfortunately, it seemed he was in fact enjoying this newly found; unwanted and painfully necessary intimacy the two had to share. Despite the mask, Raven could feel the trickling sensation of Yoshimitsu's breath invading the skin at the back of his neck. For a man whom it would take years to have the privilege to hold his gaze for a number of minutes, this was too much.

Raven snapped his head to the side, growling under his breath. This did not go unnoticed by his companion, for to the agent's surprise, responded with an agitated edge underlining his tone.

"What hinders thee now?"

"I ask you direct your breath elsewhere," declared Raven, eyes scanning the horizon for a possible landing. "It is bad enough I have to endure your closeness."

A hurt sniff came behind him. "Be reasonable. I can hardly carry you, keep a lookout for our destination, and breathe elsewhere."

A sigh. As if talking to Raven was a task in itself.

Raven grimaced, resuming his watching for an exit from this living hell, before-

"Do you possess a fear of physical male interaction?"

It took Raven a moment to realise what Yoshimitsu was implying was platonic physical male interaction. Or so he hoped.

"NO."

Maybe that sounded a little too defensive.

The smile in the ninja's voice was completely tangible. He could physically feel the waves of gloating joy that Yoshimitsu emitted at rattling Raven once again.

"There is nothing to fear, striving for warmth and companionship amongst friends." Yoshimitsu had stepped on his philosophy wagon once again. "Why," he continued brightly, "As an evidence of the close bond between my men, they even share beds."

"Somehow that does not surprise me."

They had been flying for several hours, over what seemed to be a thick, swallowing mist swarming though the trees below their feet-as far from what Raven could gather, Yoshimitsu's hideaway had been situated at the edge of a vast forest. However, due to the lashings of fog which had surrounded the environment of their previous destination, it had been hard to conclude the exact location.

The travel arrangements were unorthodox and awkward at best. Relief trickled into Raven's consciousness as he glimpsed their apparent upcoming target; a large dismal piece of brick, hidden by the monstrous undergrowth of a dense, wild jungle. A small, pleased little "ahhhh…"sounded behind him, confirming that it was, finally, their stop.

The descent was quick and painless. Raven released himself from Yoshimitsu's grip, gracefully landing, cat like, on the ground. Yoshimitsu remained hovering for a few moments, the red pricks of his eyes travelling slowly across the building that seemed to resemble a crumbling army base. Strangely, there were no signs of life; the greenery around them was lacking in rustles, squawks, roars; even the twittering of insects seemed to have been cut off. No soldiers could be seen marching in the gloom. Silence hung in the air, suffocating; still.

Raven instantly set to work circulating and checking the remains, looking for an entrance point. Yoshimitsu took to hovering above the building, prying for any sign of life, whilst also observing his companion with an inquiring mind; noting Raven's almost autistic efficiency in detecting anything which may be of use. Raven dotted from one area to another with a steep swoop, landing fully poised on the ground, dark hands caressing each and every stone, brow furrowed with concentration. There was something oddly endearing about the whole scene, as Yoshimitsu fluttered down to stand next to his reluctant comrade, a smile hidden beneath his mask.

"Any luck, young one?"

"No." replied Raven, voice monotone with thoughtful planning. "Needless to say, the design of this building is to deceive. However, even with my skill, I cannot anticipate an entrance way. We may have to tackle this wall by force, which if done in error, could alert the…"

At that exact moment, Yoshimitsu moved forward to offer an idea, when he happened upon a very ill placed stone. This said "ill placed" stone caused him to stumble, and as he went to steady himself with the use of his scabbard, it knocked with some force a specifically decrepit brick partially hidden by fungus and debris.

Raven's hand shot out to grasp Yoshimitsu's shoulder, steadying the dazed ninja.

"Careful."

But something had been unleashed. The ground began to moan and shudder as the bricks in front of them lurched upwards, tearing the ground; leaving behind scattered remains of earth and weeds. It concluded with a screeching halt, revealing a stone stair case descending into blackness. Raven and Yoshimitsu stared, blinking in an odd type of rapture. An uncomfortable quiet descended upon them.

Elsewhere, a cricket chirped merrily.

Raven's head turned slowly to glance at Yoshimitsu, who was staring at his little revelation with all the joy of a child. "Why," he exclaimed brightly. "Fancy that!"

Raven's face remained expressionless. "Yes," he replied, voice dead with a sardonic quip. "Fancy that."

The staircase was treacherous. Into the blinding darkness the two men had descended, fumbling their way down on old ruins of steep, uneven steps. It seemed as if their descent had been forever. However, one specific issue was still rife in Raven's mind. Turning his face in the darkness, he could scarcely see the flash of Yoshimitsu's sword hanging from the creature's hip.

"You did that on purpose."

"Hm?" The dark shape in front of him turned, that orchestral voice hushed and distracted. "Specify your meaning, young one."

Young one. How condescending.

"Discovering this passageway," Raven continued, choosing to ignore his feigned arrogance. "You did not blunder "accidently" at all. I am strictly under the impression you knew all along."

Silence.

At that moment, a deep, husky chuckle bubbled from the darkness. It evolved swiftly into high, manic laughter that seemed to personify erratically changing colours. Yoshimitsu turned his haunting, scorching pools of red eyes to Raven, as his chortles became a vibrating baritone. Raven felt disquiet puncture his mood like an arrow, and wished sombrely at the back of his brain that he really was saving an endangered species of Red Panda in Bulgaria.

The two intrepid explorers finally groped their way to a clearing. Below the deep, crumbling staircase was what seemed to be an underground river with a strong current. The water heaved under the roof of a tunnel, which housed a tiny, unprotected pathway in which one could navigate across, body pressed to the damp wall at all times. Is was a dismal, claustrophobic prison of a place; the only redeeming feature a small pinprick of light that sprang from deep within its dank depths, offering the hope of a way out.

This led to the amusing venture of Raven tiptoeing his way across the miniscule surface area, fingers splayed against the wall in a desperate dance to stay balanced. Considering his usual athletic skill, this was in truth, a complete doodle. If he wished, he could have jumped diligently though the passageway, taking advantage of the slanted bricks, but the nature of the brickwork was so slimy and old, it was hardly advisable. So no, he did it the hard way.

Just how he liked it.

Irritatingly enough, a whirring of machinery tickled his ears.

Yoshimitsu hovered nearby, arm outstretched to lend a hand.

Raven ignored it.

Yoshimitsu coughed, expectantly.

Raven ignored it.

Yoshimitsu made a clicking sound with his tongue.

Raven ignored it.

Yoshimitsu sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

Raven ignored it.

Yoshimitsu, using the sheath of his sword, poked Raven's back to gain the man's attention.

Raven, hardly believing this man was a competent leader of over three thousand men, ignored it.

Eventually, Yoshimitsu fell back, humming with boredom.

Raven ignored it.

The light was coming closer; it was an open passageway, with blessed stairs leading up into a secret room. Raven felt a small smirk quirk his mouth; he was already there, insanity intact, and Yoshimitsu a safe distance behind him….

CRASH.

Raven could not ignore that.

A swarm of about thirteen men, heavily armed, suddenly burst through the tunnel wall. Broken, decrepit brick went flying, as Raven ducked, throwing him into a battle stance. Yoshimitsu was already there, blurring into action, shrieking a shrill battle cry. His sword flashed in the darkness, clashing against, and though, the metal rifles. Raven found himself immersed in attack; his perfected, intoned brain clicking into the professional veneer he was so feared for. Effortlessly, his body arched, taking down man after man. Rifles were thrust away into the heavy currents, as the fearless troupe became a mosaic of black eyes and bleeding noses, as they tap-danced on the tiny, lethal ledge.

Though the carnage, Yoshimitsu's laughter, crazy and convoluted and coiling, rang above the writhing bodies. Raven couldn't detect his companion's movement; Yoshimitsu seemed to sweep between his prey with a supernatural elegance, impossible to be observed by the human eye.

As Raven took on two soldiers at the front, a young soldier, newly recruited, raised his gun, directing just below the curve of the agent's neck.

An armoured hand slid gracefully around the man's chest in an iron clad embrace. The soldier froze, fear prickling his insides like poison needles. The cold pressure of a sharp blade was being applied, ever so slightly, to the space above his left kidney. A voice, heavy with a husky, ethereal brilliance, trickled into his ear.

"Who are you working for, young man?"

It was tinged with a paternal concern that made his legs quiver.

Now it was undernoted with warning.

"Lower your gun."

The man did so. He spoke, his accent noticeably Russian.

"Ou-r commander, D-Dragunov..."

A shot, fired from an unknown location, ripped though the boy's chest. He made a small noise, like air escaping from a balloon, as he slumped, rag doll like, into Yoshimitsu's arms.

From the shadows, emerged a figure, a smoking gun grasped loosely in his hand.

At first, one would have thought he was a ghost; his complexion was deathly pale, lined with a sickly edge that implied malnourishment of the heart as opposed to the body. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, his posture drawn up in a stiff, erect state; carrying himself with the apologetic formality of an undertaker. Black hair was slicked back, away from a grey face, with colourless, empty eyes reminiscent of compact ice, fine fibres of blonde eyebrows, a long, thin nose and a full, white mouth, a parody of bee stung lips. A faded scar, blunt with age, wound itself past the bottom right side of his face, offering a visage that was cold, fearsome, untouchable.

For an instant, Yoshimitsu's eyes locked with the intruders.

The sticky warmth of blood oozed though his fingers, the soldier's breath becoming shallower, wheezing and faint.

However, it wasn't Yoshimitsu who was holding Dragunov's attention. The man's icy glare was directed silently at the now frozen form of Raven, who observed this newcomer with an emotion not quite as tame as raging hate. A slight impression on Dragunov's brow, a barely detectable show of tiny expression, (in a figure famed for his blankness) displayed an equally overblown loathing for the other man.

Yoshimitsu, trying to curb his captive's bleeding, stood blinking in the rampant crossfire of silent, masculine anger waves.

"You."

Raven's voice was venomous. Whatever these two possessed, one thing was obvious. It was a long, bloody history, rife with turmoil and resentment. Yoshimitsu was no stranger to the nature of ongoing feuds; though the years, he had many, each one impacting and lasting. It had given him the ability to read hearts, to effortlessly detect between friend and foe.

Whoever this Russian Sergeant was, his mind and spirit were locked from Yoshimitsu's penetrating gaze. It brought to mind a chest frosted in ice.

Raven reached for his daggers poised on his back. Slowly, Dragunov shook his head, instead lifting his gun to point at another target.

Yoshimitsu didn't even stiffen.

Raven paused for the first time, fingers stilled on the tip of his blade.

Something vague, nipping, barely resembling a flare of concern, pricked his chest.

Dragunov lacked the ability to smile. If he could have done, he would have smirked in devilish triumph. Instead, the gun lifted even higher, at the fragile, broken ceiling.

He fired.

The earth roared.

It happened so quickly; within a crazy assortment of crumbling debris, brick dust, and crushing weight, did Raven spring to attention. He fell to the floor; rolled, and threw himself into a small opening, just below the staircase of the illusive room they had sought. The world rocked, and descended, once more, into grim silence.

Daylight spewed onto the cracked remains of the army base. Dragunov, immensely pleased with himself, would have chuckled. If he could have chuckled, of course. The quiet that had befallen was one of the dead. Dust particles lingered lazily in the golden aura of mid morning. If it hadn't killed them, it would certainly slow them down. Sheathing his gun, Dragunov turned to leave.

An armoured hand burst from the ruins, wielding a glowing sword. The wrist twisted, and plunged the shining blade deep into Dragunov's polished boot.

Dragunov didn't scream. As I said before, if he could, he would, as he possessed the right equipment; throat, lungs, tongue, but not the capacity. Instead, the tiniest beads of perspiration sprung on his flawless brow. A faint hiss, too tiny to hear, may have emitted itself from his person. But, this Russian agent was unshakable. As if to share his distaste, he lifted his other boot and strongly kicked the flailing arm at the joint.

A crack.

The arm fell limp.

Dragunov did leave then. The fading sound of a helicopter in the distance promoted this to full effect. A lone finger on the weakened hand twitched pathetically, as if in protest.

It was midday when Raven finally managed to break though the mangled remains of his prison. Covered in dirt, grime, and various other filthy materials, he felt his mood plummet further with the lack of a so called exasperating entity.

He shouldn't have worried. Sitting away from him, on a tree stump, was his unorthodox companion, head bowed. Any angry or relieved words about to appear died on Raven's lips; the majestic shoulders, always swung with bizarre majesty, were now shrunken and shaking. Yoshimitsu's form was coiled, bent, apologetic; a feat that was stranger then the man himself. His hands covered his head away from sight; Raven realised. His mask, by the ground at Yoshimitsu's feet, had been smashed to pieces.

"Yoshimitsu...?"

"My...mask..." the heavy instrumentality of that voice, had become small and receding.

Raven took a step towards him, eyes narrowing at such nonsense. Raven had seen many things, horrible and vile and unforgivable things. Did Yoshimitsu really think he would balk at the sight of a human face, however twisted?

"Yoshi..."

"Don't look at me."

Raven tensed. The man's voice was hissing, threatening, low, and thick with a throaty growl that sounded almost dangerous. The sun glinted off the Mask's shattered remains.

"Do. Not. Look. At. Me."

End of Chapter 3.

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