Like Twins

So that was it, huh? Looked like the right address. A big corporate-type building smack dab in the middle of downtown. Office buildings were all around with those over-worked businessmen milling in and out. Hwoarang had made his way inside, passing the cookie-cutter salarymen with a smug smirk. Normally he would have been thrown out of a building like that in a second, but they were expecting him. Why? Who cared?

A note had arrived in the mail a couple days ago, something about inviting him to save the world with "the best team of eight fighters mankind has ever known". A little dramatic for his liking, but hey, it was something to do! So long as there was some sort of reward, he was game!

He took some time to check out his reflection in a window as he was passing. Looking good. Had to, after all, if he was representing one of the best fighters mankind had ever known! Some broad interrupted him, but he didn't bother reeming her out for it. Apparently it was time to get the show on the road, so he followed her past the heavy security – not without winking and flashing them an accomplished grin – and into a private meeting room. Before he had the chance to ask her what was going on, she was gone.

And the room was empty.

Alright, it wasn't so bad. That gave him some alone time to think about the possibilities! All the parties he could have with that reward! Hwoarang ignored the eight chairs seated around, and hopped up to get nice and comfortable on the long table.

The room appeared sound-proof; at least there was nothing to hear from outside. Thus, it startled him slightly when the door finally opened again, and the woman reappeared. Then, a second later, Kazama entered the room behind her, and she left them. Looked ready for a fight with a pair of those oversized fighting gloves the guy seemed to love; red and black ones like the good old days. It seemed the guy had noticed him, but it was hard to be sure with the lack of attention he was being spared.

Might as well try to start some civilized conversation. With the intention of doing just that, the Korean suddenly gave a sharp laugh and leaned back to lazily sprawl across the table. "That's weird. I was told it would be the best fighters. What are you doing here?"

The Japanese leant against the wall, crossing his arms and flashing him a confident smirk. "Funny you should say that. They've got a strange sense for picking out the best eight when they pick someone who hasn't even finished among the best eight in a single Iron Fist Tournament..."

Hwoarang rolled his eyes and grimaced at the reminder of his failures. Bastard had a lot of nerve. "Them's fightin' words..." If the prick didn't want to be civilized, that wasn't his problem. He had better things to do, like laying there sizing the Japanese man up and contemplating how best to shatter that confidence.

And before either of them could say anything further, the door opened again. This time, the woman was holding someone's hand. It turned out to be a petite terrified brunette, not wanting to let go of the woman's hand, but finally managing to after the broad had tugged a bit to withdraw it. Or perhaps the little girl simply wasn't strong enough to keep the hold. Her eyes focused on the floor as she took two reluctant steps towards the table. "Hello..." she said meekly, almost as a sob.

"Jesus, Kazama!" Hwoarang quirked a brow as he studied the newcomer. Far from the 'best' fighters he had been expecting. "Why'd you bring the lovechild you had with Xiaoyu? She's trembling like a naked chihuahua!"

The raven-haired man looked more offended than confused by the arrival, but took a deep breath and seemed to calm down a bit from that. "These guys clearly don't know what they're doing..." He said in a manner that implied he was considering just turning around and leaving.

Couldn't expect a man that stubbornly self-righteous to take saving the world seriously! Hwoarang cast him an annoyed glance and then turned his head, cheek against the surface, to look at the small one. "So, sweetheart, you look a little lonely! Why don't you come over here and let a big strong man warm you up! What's your name?"

Slowly lifting her head, her brown eyes focused confusedly on his. "What.... what do you mean, Hwoarang?" She blinked a couple of times, then grimaced momentarily. "You've forgotten who I am now?"

A broader grin appeared across the Japanese's face, looking back and forth between them. "Why didn't you introduce me to your girlfriend, Hwoarang? Good for you that she's here, so you can hide behind her if someone dangerous shows up..."

That was really weird. Almost weird enough to make him ignore that bastard's comments. Not quite. He scowled at Jin and folded his arms behind his head. "Hey, I do a lot of crazy things when I'm drunk, and apparently a lot of crazy people too, but I don't need to hide behind anyone, you conceited dick. I don't know who this wench is."

"Wench?" The brunette winced, then looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. "But I'm Jin! Jin Kazama!" She took another step towards the table, then started, "I..."

That was as far as she got before a hand rested firmly on her throat, pushing her back against the wall. "Copying my hairstyle gives you no right to try stealing my name," the Japanese hissed angrily, "consider yourself lucky I'm in a good mood. If I weren't, you wouldn't have gotten away with that nearly this easily."

Again, the door opened. A voice came in before the fourth addition even entered, singing along to some annoying popular chart-topper. The woman appeared with someone strolling behind her – Hwoarang was far too irritated to bother looking. It was turning out to be a huge mistake; the promise of meeting some actual fighters was seeming more and more hopeless as the time went on. The singing stopped and suddenly a familiar voice shouted, "Hey! Leave him alone!"

Wait? Who was 'Him'? Confused, Hwoarang looked at the others to see... himself. "What the fuck..."

A man who looked almost exactly like him – maybe a little bit thinner and with brighter hair – was standing there glaring at the real Jin. It was unreal. Hwoarang sat up, rubbing his eyes and slowly got off the table to cautiously approach the others.

"Hw... Hwoarang?" The girl stuttered, then looked confusedly back and forth between the two redheads. "Hwoarang... tell me what's going on..."

The Japanese looked at the newly arrived with a cocky smirk, sizing the guy up and eventually responding, "I'm glad you came. Tell your brother over there to grow up and get over what happened years ago."

The imposter frowned as his curious gaze landed on Hwoarang. He blinked stupidly and then smiled, holding out a hand for a shake. "Hey! I'm Hwoarang, and you are?"

As if it wasn't confusing enough already. The real Hwoarang's lip twitched into an aggravated sneer. Where did that bitch get off using his name to his face? And smiling? Now that just topped it all, and he considered whether or not to beat some sense into the bastard. "Is this your idea of a joke, Jin? If you were going to mock me with an impersonator, you could have at least sprung for a good one!"

Letting go of the girl's throat, the raven-haired man turned around and covered the steps over to the newly arrived redhead, resting an arm around the man's back. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said with a smirk, "I bet my friend here can beat you at Tae Kwon Do any day."

His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. A spark of jealousy was worming its way up his spine, but he knew he couldn't do anything without rising suspicion. Last thing he needed was to feed Kazama's ever-present ego. "You seriously need -"

The door swung open, and he stopped talking, mid sentence, to bear witness to whatever freak they were sending in next. As the woman came through and another man entered, Hwoarang laughed aloud. A Jin look-a-like! The man wore a dark blue hooded top with yellow flames on it. As the woman made her exit for the umpteenth time, the new impostor held the door. When it closed and he got a second to look at the others, he took a step back with his brow furrowed. His mouth opened, but he seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say.

Jin sighed. He and the guy impersonating Hwoarang turned to face the new black-haired man, Jin's arm still draped around the other's back. With narrowed eyes, he asked firmly, almost angrily, "and who are you?"

Taking a weary step toward the door, but apparently deciding not to flee, the newcomer took a deep breath and gazed unwaveringly into the real Jin's eyes. "I suspect you already know the answer to that."

"Wooow!" Hwoarang chuckled as he came to stand beside the angry one. It was all still so confusing, but at least the fact that the joke wasn't on him alone was comforting. Who ever organised this must have had a really awesome – though highly annoying – sense of humour! "This is just what the world needs! A Kazama that isn't a complete dickhead!"

"You talking about me?" A calm, deep voice was heard from the door, and there was another Jin lookalike. He didn't seem at all surprised to see two almost identical redheads, but seeing the rest of them made him vaguely quirk a brow. With a sigh, he stepped inside, followed by two more Hwoarang-lookalikes and a tall man in an expensive-looking black suit.

~~~

This is a collab, written together with Chlover. You can find her author profile here:
http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=26260