Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kenshi Takahashi vowed to his ancestors, to his mother, to his sister — to himself that someday he would kill the monster he called 'father' all his damned life.

He would take immense satisfaction of hearing his father cry, begging him to stop as he strangled the very being that gave him life. He can think of so many inhumane, ruthless ways to do to the body after it turns cold. Feeding it to wolves, cutting it all up so that his body would never be complete or simply just leaving it to decompose and rot would give him the 'peace' that he always asked for.

At least that's what he thinks. Which person wouldn't plant a seed of hatred in their heart when their own father denied them of love? He would sometimes stare into the ceiling of the house he lived in and wondered, What atrocious sins did they commit to have HIM as their father? Was their mother blind, love struck—cursed to fall in love with such a horrible man like him?

He would never know — and thank god he didn't. If he only knew, he would spend his entire life repenting to gods and changing the past so that his mother would never meet such a disdain of a man.

Munashi Taira married Kensaki Takahashi at Lake Kawaguchiko. As the sun set, the ceremony was filled with lively ecstasy. Husband and wife, gladly greeted guests and gave them their farewells. Kensaki Takahashi was one beautiful woman.

She was not only adored for her figure — but for her utmost charm. She was,if anything, the epitome of beauty and grace. Munashi Taira was a mistake of a man, rude, condescending and an utmost narcissist. One thing about men like him, is that they never show their true intentions, not unless they have you in their fullest control. Like a rabbit in a forest — the starved fox already had its dinner the moment the rabbit thought it was safe.

"Good Evening, Saki! I must say you look dazzling as ever", spoke one of the male guests.

"No need to be so formal around me Kenji. I've seen you more times than I've seen Tokyo have a downpour."

"Your wedding is amazing, exquisite food, amazing scenery and that sparkling dress, yet still now you always had a bad taste in men-".

Kensaki shushed Kenji with her left hand, scared someone might hear.

"Quiet it down! You wouldn't want to create another scene with him, not especially here".

"Oh come on, why marry a piece of shit like him? We tried warning you, I tried warning you. He is not a person you would want to spend your life with. His father is allegedly a Yakuza, a fucking Yakuza Saki. If he grew from that, what could he do to you?".

"You don't know that, all I know is that he treated me well, I wouldn't accept his proposal if not for his efforts. I wouldn't give him a chance to love me if he wasn't persistent. If he was the person you all tell him to be we wouldn't be together for five fucking years Kenji."

Her voice was quivering, her hands and feet were getting tingly. She was letting go. As much as she wanted to not cause a scene, the people already had their eyes and ears on them the moment they spoke.

"I-" Kenji looked her in the eyes — a sardonic laugh escaping his lips.

"Live your life, Kensaki Taira. Live your life."

She tried to chase after him, to make him stop. To still try to reconnect him to her life. She tried, desperately wanting to shout, Wait Kenji! Just please stay and enjoy the night. That was the last time Kensaki Taira saw Kenji. That was also the last time she felt.. him.

Moments passed later and the wedding ceremony was halted to a close; it was a successful wedding, an amazing couple that will continue the legacy of Taira. Relatives and closest family members led them to a rented boat, a ride towards the long awaited honeymoon of the couple. Munashi couldn't wait to devour such a woman. A figure of an innocent soul that he could corrupt turned him on.

Arriving at the island, rose petals blanketed the moonlit beach. The smell of the ocean calmed them down and it set the mood. Without warning, Munashi forcefully crashed his lips at Kensaki. She felt no love when he kissed her — it was pure, hardened lust. This was the first time he acted like this to her, she was scared. She told him to stop, but he just kept on. Now she understood what marrying this man truly felt. It was a regret she knows she could never let go, and ultimately passed it on to her children. If only she had listened. I'm sorry Kenji, may you be the one that I marry in my next life.

Kenshi was seven years old when his father's fist first collided with his face. He knew it was coming for him one way or another, after what he kept on hearing in his parents' bedroom at times he should be asleep. His mom would always tuck him into his room, tears welling up in her eyes every night when she said 'Goodnight'. He never knew why she was always crying every single night he went to bed, then he grew up. He saw his mother's bruises — her scars, now he understood her fear. Every time she tucked Kenshi to bed she always felt like this may be her last time seeing him alive.

"C'mon Kenshi, you can do so much more than that".

Heavy breathing and pants were heard echoing through the room. Sweat gathered at Kenshi's temples. His hair wet from physical exertion. He definitely needed a shower after this.

"Suchin, for the last time I do not want to do this anymore."

"Tighten up and ready yourself, we're going for another round. This time, if you give it your all, rest may come", Suchin spoke while holding out her arm for him to grab.

"As if I had a choice."

Kenshi grabbed her arm and was thrown a bokken. Both fighters took their stances. Suchin struck first, he was always used to defending himself. After successfully blocking her attack, he slashed at her but she dodged with precision. Kenshi was tired; Suchin, on the other hand, moved like this was just her first time fighting for the day. She really did float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

He cringed at himself for creating a pun with an idiom when a literal training robot disguised as a woman was trying to pin him down for-

"Ow!"

His thoughts were cut short when the hilt of her bokken bashed his forehead. That hurt like fucking hell.

"Kenshi, you're not getting distracted again are you? Show me what you've got. Show me what a real Taira can do", Suchin spoke with unwavering confidence.

Kenshi hated the word Taira. He hated the taste of his father’s name on people's tongues. They say anger is just the violent way we try to control the things that terrify us. By that logic, he wasn't his father's ruthless legacy—he was just a boy who grew up scared of his own blood.

With anger coursing through his veins, he wasn't thinking straight anymore. He just wanted this to stop, and so he will. Kenshi lunged at Suchin, she guarded herself with her own weapon and parried him, throwing him off the mat. He quickly stood up as he almost hit the edge of her bokken. He decided to trick her, he decided to throw in a feint hoping that she won't notice. She fell for it and just like he expected, she tried to counter by trying to draw cut him.

Kenshi saw the opportunity and grabbed Suchin's arm, disarming her. He pushed her down to the mat and directed the end of his weapon down to her throat.

"Do not call me that".

"I'm impressed Kenshi, maybe calling you by your father's name gives you the fighting urge to finally kill," Suchin said as she stood up to gather their used weapons and placed them near the bench. She would most likely clean them first before putting them near their respective racks.

"Please Suchin, I never asked to be trained to kill. It was his stupid idea, even forced me to drop out of school. So I could continue his fight for a sword he could never give to his own father? He passed his incompetence down to me. His burden, his life's mission he passed down to me." Kenshi stood there, knuckles turning white.

"And I don't fucking want that".

Every time Kenshi confessed his hatred for his father, he felt the cheap glass of his own pride shatter. Looking back through the timeline of his life, there was not a single memory where his father had actually earned the title. He knew holding onto this feeling will kill him, but it was the only piece of his father he had left to hold — even if it was painful venom for him to bear.

"After I take back Sento from those Americans, my duty to that wretched family name is done." He turned to leave the dojo. He really wanted to just shower this all off.

Suchin sighed, exhaustion now bearing at her shoulders and arms.

"I'm sure you will. Say hi to Mei for me will ya? Poor girl was complaining to me about Takeda. Teens and their adolescent banters." For the first time today, Kenshi chuckled.

"Will do! By the way, are you sure Raiden put Takahashi instead of that? If he doesn't, he might be Sento's first kill".

"Of course he did. Double — even triple checked the file. Taka - Ha - Shi, was your surname. Even if he forgot, no one would, especially the Carltons hiring someone named Taira. That's basically inviting a serial killer into your home."

Funny how Taira became such an infamous surname after the scandal a decade ago, in which the Taira clan was found to be a major syndicate for the Yakuza. Good for Kenshi and Mei though, they were allowed to keep Takahashi as their legalized surnames. Kenshi might've actually killed himself if Taira was still next to his name.

"Close the door when you go, kay? Don't want to have roaches suddenly enter the dojo".

"Okay, bye Su, thanks for today".

"Goodbye, Kenshi Ta-" before she could even finish, she could feel the ominous, dreaded anger of Kenshi as he looked at her.

"Takahashi, take back Sento for me, for your family and for yourself. You deserve so much more than this".

As he left the dojo, he breathed in cold, dark winter air. The sky today looked mesmerizing, no, actually it was dazzling. He could stare into these stars every night, paint them and engrave them in his memory. Kenshi always wanted to be a painter; when he was a kid, his mother always taught him how to paint like Picasso. His favorite hobby back then was painting his mother's eyes. They always gave off such a motherly vibe.

A few blocks later, he arrived home. To Kenshi it was truly never a home, it was just a house. Sure it had a nice metal gate, a pavement made with gravel and other stones that he doesn't know. A front door made of mahogany, a fireplace made of limestone and quartz. Floors made from herringbone parquet — some made of marble though. The centerpiece table filled with Japanese antiques, hung oil portraits of their ancestors on shiny, glimmering walls. It was a beautiful house, but it was no home.

"Kenshi! My dear, how was it with Suchin?" his mom asked as he entered the vicinity.

"It was fine, mom. Where's Mei?"

"In her room, why don't you come join us for dinner. Your father's been asking about you".

His father, what a joke.

"Tell him maybe next time mom, I wanna sleep and if he asks questions for Sento, just say everything's according to plan. I just need time".

"If you say so, goodnight Kenshi."

"Goodnight, mom".

Reaching his room he immediately went to strip his clothes off; today's sweat and grime really needed to come off, he felt sticky and it was killing him. He entered the shower and as cold water hit his skin, his mind relaxed. After taking a refreshing shower, he changed into his night clothes and prepared to go to bed, only to be awakened by someone calling his phone. Tired and irritated, he answered and picked it up.

It was Raiden.

"Kenshi my man, hopefully it wasn't a bad time for me to call you".

"You just did, this better be something good or I'm blocking you".

"Slow down big guy, I have such amazing news that it'll make you scream like a little girl seeing their favorite actors on stage", Raiden excitedly said through the phone.

"Just say it Raiden, wanna go back to sleep".

"Wait, did Suchin not tell yo-".

"Stop edging me and say it already, fucking edge lord, say it or I actually turn this call off".

"You got in Kenshi! Carlton Enterprises just emailed back to 'Kenshi Takahashi' — they want you in. This might be your-"

Kenshi couldn't listen to what Raiden was saying anymore. The only thing he knows is that he got in. He got in. Sure he didn't scream like a girl, but this is his chance to get his family out of the Taira's grasp. Just hang on mom and Mei, we're almost out.

Kenshi woke up the following morning, his head throbbing. He really should have eaten at least something before going to sleep. The duvet that helped him stay warm during the night was becoming a nuisance. The morning felt too calm — then he remembered the event last night.

He immediately checked his phone, mainly expecting last night's call to seem like a mere illusion for his fantasies.

Of course.

Raiden really can't keep his stupid mouth shut can he. Five in the morning Kenshi's already fuming on what to say to his father. Hey! Gonna get Sento back for you, you deadbeat dad! Hopefully, I don't die in another country for your clan's stupid sword!

Wait.. If his dad knows, that means..

Frantic knocking was coming from his door, fuck, that's probably him. Calming himself down, he mustered with every single atom in his body to just stay calm, to have a nonchalant voice, and to NEVER look in his father's eyes.

He opened the door; surprisingly it wasn't the spawn of the devil, it was the polar opposite.

"Mei? It's five in the morning, you never wake up unless it's past noon already, I'm quite surprised little s-".

"Shut up Kenshi, you know exactly why I'm here," Mei spoke with urgency in her voice, as she closed the door behind them and locked it.

"So you're gonna leave me and mom again? Alone with him?".

"I'm really sorry Mei. I needed to leave beca-" he was cut off by an excited scream and giddy laughs as he felt his sister's warmth embrace his still cold body from sleep.

"Wait, wait, you're not mad?".

"Mad? YOU must be mad, you can finally run away, for good this time! Desert your past life, make new connections and so much more cool shit. You can finally live, big bro."

"Mei you know I can't do that if I run away. Who knows what he'll do, they'll do. Not only to me but to you and mom. When I get Sento, I'll come back for you both. Then I can do all the things I've always wanted, just like what you said." He spoke while gently caressing his sister's hair.

They stayed like this for a while. No one spoke, just comfort radiating through the room. That's when he heard a quiet wheeze — which turned into a sob. She let him go as tears were falling from her eyes.

"Mei? Hey.. Tell me what's wrong, scared that I'll go? Or maybe you'll miss me once I go? Please, don't worry I can take care of myself there. When I'm done you and mom will be free."

"That's the problem, Kenshi."

"Wha-What do you mean?".

"You're too goddamn selfless. You act like you're replaceable but you're not. You go into life-and-death missions just for me and mom, but you're forgetting one thing. Those missions were for our father too. You protect him, unbeknownst to your morals. Did you, once in your life think, when you fight our father and his enemies, was that for yourself or simply an act for him to notice you exist?"

Words stung the most when they hit your deepest insecurities.

"Back when I was a kid, dad was busy emptying his pockets and drowning in his sorrows that he forgot to pay my field trip fee. You came in and sold all of your artwork just for me to see white foxes and feel the apricity of the cold winter forest around me. When mom was sick and was on the verge of saying her goodbyes, you sold your camera just for her to be admitted. I know that camera meant something to you, you always wanted to capture every single good thing that you felt in this world."

"Mei.."

"I'm not done Kenshi, just please.. For once in your twenty-four years of life just be selfish and pick yourself. I can already protect myself, I've beaten Takeda for about a hundred times. Suchin even said that I'm better than him—even her for my age. It's my turn to protect mom, my turn to take the burden that he gave into your life. My turn to protect you."

Kenshi took Mei's hand and sat themselves down near his bed, wiping away her warm tears.

"To be honest, I'm already selfish. Having you as my sister gives me the excuse to be ruthless, and to me that is selfish. I've become so devoted to keeping you safe that I... I did things I never wanted to do. I've killed to protect you. I've wiped out entire generations of families just to ensure you breathe. I don't want you going down that same dark path".

Kenshi held her trembling hands.

"Let me protect you just this one last time, Mei. Let me have my last, selfish act".

She sighed.

"Okay just this last time. If you fail, I'll be the one to carry your weight. I'll bear the burden you've carried your entire life—I promise you that, just like what you did for me all these years. You, Kenshi Takahashi, will be my first and last selfish act."

Kenshi’s room now felt like a confessional, a heavy dam breaking after a lifetime of silence. He was experiencing a true catharsis—a concept he had once completely misunderstood. It happened a few years ago, while Suchin tended to his battle wounds.

"You hold too much dread, Kenshi. You need to be catharized."

Kenshi had offered a grim, tired smile.

"I don't think my soul needs to be cauterized, Suchin. Hot iron is for flesh, not feelings."

Suchin had stopped, placing a gentle hand over his racing chest.

"The word is catharized, Kenshi. And it is the exact opposite. To cauterize is to burn a wound shut; it traps the pain inside under a hard, unfeeling scar. To be catharized is to open the floodgates. It is pouring out every buried sorrow and terror until your spirit is washed clean. Cauterizing hides the bleeding. Catharizing heals it."

Sitting in the heavy quiet with Mei, the memory hit him with a sudden, aching clarity. There was no hot iron, no sealing the pain away. The armor around his heart had finally cracked wide open. He wasn't bleeding out—he was being washed clean.

"So when do you leave?" Mei spoke as she let go of her brother's hand.

"Tomorrow. The earlier I get Sento, the earlier I can come home to you and mom."

"Mei, if you know, who else knows?".

Mei looked at Kenshi with sorrow in her eyes. "Mom knows, dad obviously knows. Everybody knows".

Raiden, I swear to God.

"What did mom say about it?"

"She just left. She couldn't bear to see you go again, Kenshi. After so many years of her thinking she'll lose you, seeing her son go.. maybe her heart couldn't take such a goodbye."

Kenshi understood his mom's actions. Seeing your only son coming home bloody, knocking at Death's doorstep almost every single day he was tasked by her husband, was traumatic for her.

"Well, help me pack?"

"You bet I will."

"Almost forgot, Suchin says hi. What is up with you and Takeda, hmm?" Kenshi asked teasingly.

"Nothing. Fuck you, I'll be packing up ugly clothes for your trip if you keep pestering me about him".

Kenshi Takahashi having his younger sibling was enough for him. He had no room in his life for distractions. No person, no unexpected detour would stop him from getting Sento back and freeing his family. He convinced himself that not even a cage could hold him.

Breath in.

Breath through.

Breath deep.

Breath out.

Johnny 'Cage' Carlton thinking of Taylor Swift lyrics seconds before lights and cameras put him on the spotlight was not the reaction he thought would in act upon himself. Well, even if he was the (arguably) most extroverted Hollywood actor out there, he still gets the stage fright, sometimes.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOR, JOHNNY CAGE!"

The crowd really goes wild at my fingertips .He REALLY should stop thinking about Swift's lyrics right now. He's just here to do a celebrity interview, nothing more nothing less. Stay within the script. If cannot be answered, make a joke about it. If forced to be answered, make an even funnier joke. If he accidentally slips, say it was a joke. Anything to make his PR team rest for a while. After the stunt he pulled off.. Oh boy.

The interview was going well —then it was hot topic interviews.

"About the brawl last night, your co-actor, Bi-Han also known as SubZero on the trilogy of Mortal Kombat, suddenly punched you in the face calling you a 'nepo baby' made from looter money. What is your opinion about that, Mr. Cage?".

Thank you Geras made him memorize this part. Cage always thanked Mr. Fortune Teller of the Hollywood west for his predictions

"Well, my pal Bi-Han may or may not had too many drinks that night. Plus, my father's company is purely business, no illegal transcations. No artifacts of my dad's museum, have ever been took or stolen from other places. The artifacts were took without harming their culture or people." Cage answered confidently.

"Alright, Second Question? Is it true that your long time wife Cristina, divorced you this following week?"

Johnny didn't want to answer that question after losing a ridiculous amount of money in the divorce, but it was what it was.

"Yes".

Collective gasps were heard throughout the studio.

"Just means more time for you single ladies and boys to mingle with me." Winking at the camera and getting collective cheers and whistles from the crowd.

"What was the cause of divorce, if you are willing to answer."

The irony of this hot topic interview was just for sure to humiliate his Hollywood persona as 'Cage'. The whole internet knew why they divorced. Johnny Cage was a party boy. Whether if he was single, married, a widower, eloped or sick, you'll find him partying. Branded drugs, 6 digits worth of wine he can pour down his system for a whole night. If 'Thank God It's Friday' was a person, it would be him.

Cristina was not a fan of these shitty shenanigans Cage has always done. She was promised a kind, loving and most importantly a rich man. She was promised a husband who would nurture their furure children, but it never felt like it. Every sex they had in bed was just sex. Cage felt more like a fuck buddy more than someone who actually put a rock in her hand.

Believe it or not, they tried everything to at least try to fix their problems and be together. Couple therapy on the second month of marriage was not a good sign according to paparazzi. Then he, couldn't take it anymore, went back to partying not even after their third session on couple therapy. What a waste of money.

Cage simply laughed, for him this was just pure amusement, for Sonya she was on thin ice.

When he said it'll die down it did, along with his marriage.

Johnny chuckled, leaning back and resting his ankle over his knee, though his heart was doing backflips on his ribs. Keep it light, Cage. Keep it funny.

"Well, you know what they say about Hollywood, the spotlight is hot, and sometimes the soufflé collapses. Turns out, Cristina just couldn't handle my most demanding role yet. Being a guy who takes up eighty percent of the walk-in closet space with sunglasses. Honestly, it was a creative differences thing. She wanted a normal husband, and I wanted to be... well, me."

The crowd laughed on cue, his PR team are probably celebrating behind the scenes that they could get a break from defending him for a week.

The final question, last question cage, then you can drink the Chandon that Kung Lao gave you.

"We all know of how 'Johnny Cage' excels in Hollywood acting but the question the world wants to know is if 'Johnny Carlton' can still be useful in there."

Shit. Johnny knew exactly where this was going.

"Will you 'Johnny Cage' give up the title, for 'Johnny Carlton' to be able inherit Cartlons' Museum and Artifacts Enterprises?".

Fuck.

Whatever he did, whatever box office topping movies he did, he really couldn't escape his father's shadow. He loved the man really, but sometimes his father's obsession over his museum businesses was slightly killing him. Now it's catching up to him, figuratively and maybe literally, ok maybe physically too.

As a child, he got everything he always wanted. The limited LEGO set from star wars, the pencil case that would turn into gun. He had every materialistic thing that he wanted. Then came his teenage years. His mom, Clara, would always tell her to be a good person, but he never did. He always created chaos so that his father could just look at him and talk about him, even if it was him being sent to the guidance counselor again.

One time, when he was fourteen, he finally eavesdropped on his father.

"Mr. Cage, I'm just worried for your son. He has been... different these past few days. He has gotten more aggressive, and he won't open up to us anymore. No more making jokes. He's just quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me. I suggest that you talk to him personally. Spend some time with your son."

Fourteen-year-old Johnny, sitting just outside the office, had glimmered with a sudden, desperate hope. Maybe this is it. Maybe he’ll finally spend time with me.

Then came his father's voice, cold and dismissive.

"I'm sorry for his behavior, but isn't it your job to talk to him? Then do it. Before I leave this nonsense of a meeting, here—a check for his 'inconvenience'."

That was the year Johnny Carlton diagnosed himself with affluenza.

If his dad wouldn't give him attention as 'Johnny Carlton', then he would become someone his father could never ignore. His reinvented persona, 'Johnny Cage', paid off spectacularly when he won an Academy Award for his starring role in Sudden Violence. He went home that night surrounded by flashing lights, holding a golden statue that commanded everyone's attention.

Everyone except his dad.

The only thing his father cared about was the company. The only time Johnny's name ever crossed his father's lips was when it benefited the family brand. His father valued currency over his own flesh and blood.

So, Johnny stopped begging for love. He wanted daddy issues? He’ll fucking get them. He wanted to destroy his father’s ambition. He wanted revenge.

The plan was simple, but hard to pull off: feign interest in the family business, earn his father’s absolute trust, take the reins, and then burn the entire empire to the ground from the inside out. He had never found the right moment to deliver the killing blow to his father's ego.

Until now. This interview was his stage.

Johnny snapped back to the present, the studio lights hot against his face. He leaned directly into the camera, his million-dollar smile turning into something dangerously sharp.

"Though I would like to act all my life, I probably would rest 'Johnny Cage' for a while and be my dad's succ-"

"DOWN WITH THE COLONIAL AND IMPERIALISM".

A man shouted and a shot was heard. The bullet almost hit Cage in the arm but with years of martial arts, dodged it with ease. At this time the whole studio was in chaos, the perpetrator was pinned down and handcuffed, Cage and the host were behind their respective couches. It was straight out a scene from his movies.

"Cage, we need to go now!"

Mavado forcefully grabbed his arm and pulled him. His face crashed into the chest of his bodyguard.

"Jesus Christ, Mav! You're gonna break my godly face". Cage annoyingly rubbed his aching nose, hoping it wasn't broken by this hunk of a man.

"Would you rather have a broken nose or a cold body. Choose".

"It's just one guy with a gun quit it Mav, no one is going to kill me".

Suddenly, Mavado grabbed his phone and showed the situation going on outside. For the first time in many years, his blood went ice cold.

"Why the FUCK is there a shooting squad outside. THERE'S LIKE TEN PEOPLE WITH SMG'S THE FUCK DID I DO?"

"Ask your dad, people are mad, Cage. Your dad keeps stealing artifacts isn't that obvious. " Mavado said as he grabbed his gun from his holster.

"Stay behind me, Mr. Carlton advised Briggs to have an emergency escape for moments like these, after the incidents that kept on with your dad, he might've guessed they will be after you too."

"Wait dad, thought this would happen to me?"

"Of course, Cage why'd you think he wanted to hire more bodyguards—it was for you fucker. Not for him. His ad was just a hoax, you're the real treasure he wanted to protect."

Huh.

The pair ran through the halls towards the parking lot. Their escape car was right around the corner. Cage was thrown inside while Mavado stepped on the gas pedal and drove.

As Mavado updated Briggs, tires screeching against the asphalt, Johnny just stared blankly out the window. The adrenaline was fading, leaving a cold, hollow weight in his chest. His mind was spinning out faster than the car. His dad had planned for this. Not to protect his own assets. For the first time in his life, Johnny was staring at the terrifying possibility that he had misjudged his father all along. Did his father actually love him? Was Johnny Carlton actually worth saving, just for being Johnny? Or was his father saving him because he said he will succeed him?

A few agonizing miles later, Mavado killed the engine, parked the car at the driveway. Him and Johnny went out the car, faces both grim.

"Your dad wants to talk to you. On a secure line. Better brace yourself, Cage—I think it's something big."

Needing a distraction from the knot forming in his stomach, Johnny watched as Mavado pulled out a pack of cigarettes and struck a flame. Johnny gestured toward the pack, his jaw tight.

"Give me one of those."

Mavado raised an eyebrow but tapped a cigarette out, offering it to him.

Johnny took it, then practically snatched the lighter from Mavado’s grip, desperate to look composed. But his fingers refused to cooperate. His hands were trembling—not from the adrenaline of seeing a SMG firing squad, but from the sheer, paralyzing dread of facing his father. He flicked the wheel once, twice, his thumb slipping wildly. On the third try, his hand shook so violently that the lighter slipped through his numb fingers, clattering against the pavement and rolling deep into a crevice between the jagged rocks below.

Johnny stared down at the empty space between his trembling fingers, the unlit cigarette hanging uselessly from his lips. He couldn't even manage a spark. He tried fishing it out but it was just too dark and too little to grab between the rocks

"Fuck me, man. Hey Mav. You have an extra light light?".

"No."

Johnny stared down at the dark crevice, utterly defeated. He really, desperately needed this smoke.

Before he could even curse, a pair of rough, calloused fingers hooked firmly beneath his chin. Johnny’s face was pulled upward, his gaze colliding with Mavado’s steady eyes. The bodyguard leaned in close, the scent of leather, musk, gunpowder, and rich tobacco filling the space between them. Mavado dipped his head, bringing the cherry of his own burning cigarette perfectly flush against the unlit tip of Johnny's.

Without the sharp flare of a lighter, the embers had to bleed into each other. It took agonizing seconds of shared, shallow breaths, the faint orange glow casting sharp shadows across Mavado’s face. Up close, Mavado wasn't just handsome. He was sculpted from rougher, more dangerous materials than the pretty-boy actors Johnny ran with. He was a portrait of heavy jawlines, shadow-stubbled skin, and a quiet, lethal grace—the kind of rugged, unfiltered masculinity that didn't need a stylist or a ring light to command a room.

Johnny was straight. He knew he was straight, ok maybe a little gay. But staring at the man currently holding his jaw? Mavado was art. Dangerous, terrifying art.

Johnny drew in a sharp breath as the tobacco finally caught, the tip glowing a fierce, bright orange.

"Really think you should go now. Your father is kind of impatient".

"Man.." Johnny then took one more puff and stomped the cigarette to the floor.

Following his bodyguard's advice, he entered the mansion and hurried to his father's study. As he opened the door, his dad and and Briggs were talking. Stacks of files and folders were spread out on the Mahogany table, as if they were in a crime scene. When his dad saw him enter the door, he dismissed Briggs. As he walked out the door he gave johnny a polite smile and closed the door behind them.

Johnny never liked the tension when it was only him and his dad. It always felt suffocating as if he was getting crushed by the very walls that they were enclosed in. He could already taste iron on his tongue after biting the inside of his cheek. He'll do anything to at least calm his nerves down.

His dad then stoop up he braced himself for the impact but he was met with a hug?

"My boy, I am deeply sorry for what I caused you."

The sandalwood and imported leather of his father's cologne hit Johnny like a punch to the chest. Before he could react, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight enough to make his lungs feel smaller. He stood frozen. He couldn't remember the last time his father had touched him without a camera nearby, without flashing lights or reporters turning it into a public performance.

"Are you hurt, Johnny? Tell me they didn't touch you."

His father pulled back just enough to grip his shoulders. The older man's eyes were glassy, his voice strained in a way Johnny had never heard before.

"I was watching the broadcast. When the feed cut, I thought I'd lost you. I've done terrible things in my life, Johnny. Things I regret. But seeing you caught in the middle of it..." His throat tightened. "I've never felt like such a failure."

Something twisted painfully in Johnny's chest.

"Don't do that," he said quietly.

"Johnny, please—"

"I said don't fucking do that!"

The shove sent his father stumbling backward into the desk. Folders scattered across the polished wood. Years of resentment surged up so violently that Johnny couldn't stop it anymore.

"Don't act like you care now! Where was this concern when I was fourteen and sitting outside the guidance's office waiting for you to show up? Where was it when I kept getting into fights just to get your attention? You never asked why I was acting out. You never asked what was wrong. You just wrote checks and disappeared."

His father opened his mouth, but Johnny wasn't finished.

"And where were you when I won my Academy Award?" he demanded. "Do you know how pathetic that was? Standing on the biggest stage of my life and when I went home you wouldn't even look at me. I spent years becoming someone people couldn't ignore, and somehow you still managed it."

The room suddenly felt suffocating.

"You never wanted a son. You wanted something successful you could point at and call your achievement. I built Johnny Cage because Johnny Carlton wasn't enough for you. Every headline, every scandal, every stupid stunt—I kept thinking maybe this would be the one that finally made you notice me."

His voice cracked despite himself.

"And now suddenly you're worried because somebody pointed a gun at me?"

Silence settled between them.

Johnny's chest heaved. His hands shook. The anger pouring out of him felt ugly and raw, but he couldn't stop now.

"You think hiring bodyguards fixes this?" he snapped. "You think Mavado jumping in and grabbing me driving me safe somehow makes up for twenty years of being absent? I almost died today because of your enemies, your decisions, your empire. And now everyone expects me to inherit it like it's some great honor."

He swept a hand around the study.

Portraits lined the walls. Priceless artifacts sat behind glass. Every surface reflected generations of wealth and prestige. It was beautiful in the way museums were beautiful—carefully preserved, meticulously curated, and completely lifeless. Johnny had spent most of his life inside this house, yet he had never truly felt at home in it.

His father looked older than Johnny had ever seen him.

"You are right," the older man said softly.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"I was a terrible father."

Johnny said nothing.

"I convinced myself that providing for you was enough. I thought money could compensate for my absence. I thought if I gave you every opportunity, every advantage, every luxury, you wouldn't notice what was missing. I was wrong."

His father lowered his gaze.

"So very wrong."

Johnny stared into the bookshelf to distract himself.

"I watched your career from afar because I didn't know how to reach you anymore. Every year that passed made it harder. I told myself there would always be another opportunity. Another conversation. Another day. Then I watched that broadcast today and realized I might run out of days."

He took a slow step forward.

"If you want to leave, I'll let you leave. If you want nothing to do with me, this company, or the Carlton name, I won't stop you. But everything I did was for you—the security, the safe routes, the people protecting you—it wasn't for the brand. It wasn't for the company. It was because I couldn't bear the thought of losing my son."

The words struck with frightening precision.

They were everything fourteen-year-old Johnny had spent years begging to hear. Every apology. Every admission. Every ounce of regret.

For one dangerous moment, he almost believed them.

Almost.

Another part of him remained cautious. His father was still a businessman. A negotiator. A man who knew exactly how to make people trust him. Johnny couldn't tell whether this was genuine remorse or simply the most convincing pitch of his father's life.

Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn't. The worst part was that Johnny didn't care. He wanted it anyway, even if it turned out to be a lie, even if believing it would eventually destroy him. For the first time in years, his father was looking at him—not the company, not the family name, not the future heir to an empire. Just him.

"Dad..."

His voice broke.

His father pulled him into another embrace, and this time Johnny didn't resist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll help. I'll learn the business. Whatever needs to be done, I'm here."

The older man's arms tightened around him.

Johnny buried his face against his shoulder and let his body go slack, letting the performance appear genuine. The tears weren't entirely fake. Neither was the relief. But over his father's shoulder, his eyes drifted toward the files scattered across the desk, the ledgers, the reports, and the carefully guarded secrets of the Carlton empire.

The plan hadn't changed.

Only the route.

He would earn his father's trust. He would become the devoted son everyone expected him to be. He would learn every hidden account, every illegal acquisition, every secret buried beneath decades of respectability and wealth. He would smile through the lessons, accept the responsibilities, and step willingly into the role prepared for him since birth.

Then, when the empire finally rested in his hands, he would dismantle it piece by piece.

Not with fire.

Not with violence.

With knowledge.

He would pull apart every foundation until the entire structure collapsed beneath its own weight.

Johnny Cage always had his story ended, predetermined. For this shitshow of his life, he'll pen his grand ending. No mercenary, no lawyer, no paparazzi, and not even Earth's greatest swordsman would stop him from bringing the Carlton legacy to its knees. All he knows is that his ending will be truly romantic.