Post by Stardrifter on Jul 19, 2020 1:57:29 GMT
by
Stardrifter
#1 - The Gathering
Thunder crashed through the starless night sky. It came in threes, roaring even louder than the sound of the torrential rain or the crashing of waves on the beach. In the large courtyard, the stones arrayed in a dragon pattern, a lone figure stood still as a statue. The rain poured down his large conical hat and onto a simple gray cloak.
The figure waited for some time. If any were brave enough to come out in the storm and caught glimpse of him they would surely think him mad. Save those who knew who he was.
"Interesting weather we're having tonight," a voice called out from behind the figure. A voice clearly audible over the storm; deep, almost methodical in it's enunciation. "If I didn't know any better, Thunder God, I would almost think you're angry."
The figure turned, his face hidden in shadow save the bright blue-white light in his eyes, and watched as Shang Tsung casually strolled across the courtyard. Despite the storm raging around them, no raindrops seemed to reach the man. No water soaked his boots as he strode through the giant puddles.
"I suppose if anyone had cause to be angry, it would be you," Shang Tsung continued as he came to a stop a few feet before the figure. The Japanese man was clad in a loose fitting shirt, covered in a black vest, and slacks that concealed a large, fit frame. Long black hair fell over his long black coat, giving the man a menacing profile. "Sworn protector of the realm, days away from failing spectacularly."
"You are many things, Sorcerer, but a seer is not one of them." Unlike Shang Tsung's voice, which unnaturally cut through the cacophonous storm, the figure's voice roared over it all like the thunder in the sky.
"Perhaps not, Lord Raiden. But I am, as they say, a 'betting man.' And the odds are not in Earthrealms favor. Not at all."
Raiden stared into the dark eyes before him. Eyes that did not flinch away from his gaze, a rarity. They belied unnatural years in the man who, to all appearances, was in the middle age of human life. "Your arrogance shall cost you."
"Arrogance?" Shang Tsung smiled in genuine amusement. "Far from it. I have worked hard to get here. Toiled for centuries."
"Schemed," Raiden cut in. "Cheated. Murdered."
"Baseless accusations are beneath you, Lord Raiden. Had I broken any of the rules of the agreement your Elder Gods would certainly have seen me punished without remorse. Yet here I stand, my 'schemes' about to come to fruition."
"Not while I have anything to say about it," Raiden snapped, the light in his eyes arching to the sides, the electricity barely contained.
"Sadly your declarations are about to run out," Shang Tsung said in the same casual, lighthearted tone, though his eyes grew hard and his face turned stony. "My Champion cannot be defeated. Whatever machinations you have planned will be for naught. Enjoy what time you have left."
Moving to leave, Shang Tsung walked a few steps before coming to a stop as the storm ended in an instant. The rain stopped as if someone turned off a faucet. Clouds parted, revealing the stars and a crescent moon in the night sky.
"You may find, Sorcerer, that the human spirit is as unpredictable as the weather."
Turning back toward Raiden, his mouth drawn tightly into a thin line, Shang Tsung found himself alone in the courtyard. The only sound was the soothing rhythm of the waves. After breathing a heavy sigh, Shang Tsung continued on his way, ignoring the squishing sounds of his soaked boots.
Mumbai, India
Two Days Later
The crowd roared as he fell back into the chain link cage. He could feel the blood dripping down from his eyebrow. It was a good hit. Solid. He had let himself be drawn in by the feint and didn't see it coming. A mistake he would not repeat.
His opponent, a large Indian man with a mohawk and clad in nothing but tight black pants, turned toward the adoring crowd and raised his arms high. He answered their shouts of approval with smiles and waves. Fool.
Taking the top of his sweat stained gi off and tossing it to the floor, the fighter Ryu tightened the red bandanna on his head and moved to attack.
The crowd called out and his opponent turned to see Ryu coming for him. He reacted quickly, raising his guard and blocking Ryu's initial strikes. The loud smack of Ryu's red gloved fists hitting his opponent's forearms echoed in the cage.
Pushing Ryu away, his opponent countered with a series of kicks aimed low and high. Ryu blocked with either his shin or his hands, dancing backward to get out of the man's range. His backward movement was enough to get his opponent to overextend on a front kick, allowing Ryu to dodge to the side and get a solid punch into the man's right ribs. He felt a crack before the man retreated a few steps, wincing in pain.
The crowd turned ugly, obviously upset at their favorite taking a hit. It mattered little to him. Unlike his opponent, the crowd was meaningless. Packed house, empty street, small dojo, it was all the same to him. It was the fight that mattered.
His opponent clutched his side and looked over at Ryu, realization that this fight wasn't going to be a squash coming to the man's eyes. Ryu wiped blood from his left cheek and offered a very slight smile as his opponent's face turned from realization to determination. This is what he needed.
His opponent pushed his attack, leading with his left side and keeping his right away as best he could. Ryu blocked or dodged the furious attacks, allowing himself to stay on the defensive. He took a glancing kick to the side and a rather solid punch to the shoulder, but continued to remain on the defensive, only making sure he moved back around the ring and not into the cage itself.
As his opponent tired from his furious attack, Ryu seized his moment. His body low, he moved in toward a roundhouse kick from his opponent, blocking it with his right arm and countering with a left elbow to the man's stomach. With lightning speed, before his opponent could back up or raise a guard, Ryu swung up with his right fist, delivering an uppercut that practically caused him to leap into the air.
The crowd fell into a hushed silence. Their favorite fell onto his back. Ryu didn't hesitate to move in for a follow up attack, but the cage door flew open and the announcer and his opponent's cut man ran in to stop the fight.
Allowing himself to be stopped, Ryu looked down to see that his opponent was barely conscious, a number of his teeth having been knocked from his mouth. One was sticking out of the knuckles of Ryu's glove. He swiped it off with his other glove and took a deep breath, bringing his body back to a state of calm.
He allowed the announcer to hold up his arm, rather unenthusiastically, and announce him the winner. The crowd mostly booed, though there were some cheers from the patrons who took the long odds on him and now lined their pockets.
Ryu made quickly to leave. He had no interest in gloating, praise, or the various people trying to ingratiate themselves with him. After getting his winnings from the organizer, another thing he had little interest in beyond getting him to the next fight, he hastily made for the door.
His sweat drenched gi was cold to his skin when he put it back on. The cool night breeze didn't help. Still, besides this, his bedroll, and some dried meats and bread, he had nothing else on him. To most he seemed like a transient; a quiet Japanese man walking the streets of Mumbai without even shoes on. His muscular build and clean shaven face were the only giveaways that he was something more, though most didn't examine him that thoroughly, instead choosing to give him a wide berth.
While walking the city streets toward Powai Lake, where he would sleep along the shore and try to wash his clothes in the morning, he began to notice someone following him. It wouldn't be the first time someone has hoped to ambush him and steal his winnings from a fight. Taking a sharp corner around a building, Ryu held his breath and waited.
When the figure turned the corner, Ryu reached out and grabbed their shoulder, his forearm across their chest, and slammed them into the wall. Quickly checking their hands for weapons, Ryu looked into the eyes of the elder Indian man.
<Please,> the man gasped, speaking in Japanese. <Please I mean you no harm.>
<Then why do you follow me?> Ryu asked, pushing his forearm closer to the main's throat. His gray hair was thin and wispy atop a broad, wrinkled face.
<I have...an offer...a->
<I'm not interested.>
<You haven't...it's a tournament...THE tournament...>
Still wary, Ryu lessened the pressure on the man and slowly stepped back. He kept his guard up and kept his eyes focused for any sudden movements. It was now that he noticed the man was dressed in a fine brown suit. Or at least what Ryu assumed was fine, he didn't know much about suit quality. He also wore a satchel hanging from his shoulder and sitting at his side.
<My name is Vihaan. I am tasked with finding the best fighters from across the world to tell them of the Mortal Kombat Tournament.>
<Mortal Kombat,> Ryu scoffed. <It's a myth. A fairy tale told by martial art students looking for some grand dream to train for.>
Vihaan smiled. <Oh it's quite real.> He started to reach for his satchel. When Ryu's guard tensed, his movement grew slow and nonthreatening. Out of the satchel he pulled a scroll and handed it toward Ryu. <The Mortal Kombat Tournament is held once a generation. Only the greatest fighters in the world are invited to compete. Our people have had our eye on you for some time, Ryu. Your travels through Japan, Russia, China, and now India have not gone unnoticed. Nor your fights along the way.>
Looking over the scroll, Ryu found his disbelief beginning to fade. <The greatest fighters in the world?>
<Yes, yes. There is a ship sailing from Hong Kong in one week's time. That scroll will get you on board. You have crossed countries trying to better your skills and prove to yourself you are one of the best fighters, well this is your chance to prove it beyond doubt. To others and yourself.>
Rolling up the scroll, Ryu placed it inside his bedroll and turned to leave.
<Don't you have any questions,> Vihaan shouted after Ryu, but the fighter ignored him and walked off into the night.
Straightening his suit, Vihaan turned to go back the way he came. After walking a block away, a green glow emanated from his skin before quickly trailing off his body like dust in the wind. When it was gone, Shang Tsung was in Vihaan's place, smiling to himself.
New York City
Rand Corporation Headquarters
"Okay everybody, breathe in through your nose...and out through your mouth. Slowly."
The conference room for the Board of Directors was empty. The meeting table and chairs had been taken out this morning, leaving plenty of space for the board members to sit on yoga mats cross legged without shoes. Soft New Age music played from a set of Bluetooth speakers in the corner of the room. The twelve men and women, a majority obviously frustrated, played along with the Co-CEO of the Rand Corporation, Danny Rand.
"All right now I want you to loosen up your neck muscles and roll your head around, slowly," Danny told them as he sat in front of the group. He was dressed in loose fitting, tan cotton pants and open shirt, a white tank top underneath. His mop of curly blond hair and shaggy beard rustled as he rolled his head.
A loud cough came from one side of the room. A groan from the other. Danny, his eyes closed, smiled as he continued to roll his head. "I know this is strange, but trust me if you put some energy into this you'll get even more in return. This will help center your chi and de-stress your body for the rest of the day's work."
The exercise continued for another fifteen minutes. Only about three more groans of complaint were uttered in that time. On the other hand, when a knock came to the door, there were numerous sighs of relief.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Joy Meachum, Co-CEO, announced as she entered the room. Her wide smile hid the lie in her words.
In every way Danny did not fit the role of CEO of a major international company, Joy was the opposite. Impeccably dressed, long brown hair neatly styled down to her shoulders, high heels polished to a shine. "I know this is...important to you Danny, but there's someone here to see you."
"And an unscheduled visitor couldn't have waited until my class was done?" Danny asked in a soft, comforting voice. He returned the smile, though his was quite genuine.
Joy walked further over to Danny. "Yes well he says he's from your...Kon Lin...thingy..."
"K'un-Lun," Danny corrected, quickly rising to his feet. "Excuse me, I must indeed see to this guest. We will come back to this tomorrow."
If Danny heard any of the grumbling or complaints to Joy as he left the room and made his way toward his office, he showed no signs of it.
When he rounded the corner and the desk outside his office came in view, a head bobbed up as if it had been lying in wait to strike. "Mr. Rand, sir, I have a number of messages for-"
"Yes, yes Christopher," Danny said in a hushed tone, his hand up to silence his assistant. "All things in time, I assure you. I was told I have a visitor."
"In your office, sir," the clearly frustrated Christopher said. "But we really need-"
"Thank you, Christopher," Danny smiled as he walked past, entering his large corner office.
Inside was a man in robes of white and gold, staring out the large single window that wrapped around the corner offering an amazing view of Manhattan. The back of his bald head was wrinkled and weathered by years in the sun. Danny would know it anywhere.
<Master Huang,> Danny exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically loud. He spoke in Chinese. <What're you doing here?>
<I believe that is obvious, my young pupil,> Master Huang turned, a bemused smile on his large face. <I have come to see you.>
<Yes. Of course. But I meant, why are you outside of K'un-Lun?> Danny asked, his voice soft once more though perplexed. He stood before his Master and bowed. <If I'm not mistaken, you haven't left K'un-Lun since you were a child.>
The smile quickly faded from Master Huang's face. His visage took on a grave look. <Never before has the need been so great. Mortal Kombat is upon us.>
Danny sighed deeply and shook his head. He walked away from his Master, now his turn to stare out at the city beneath them. <Please don't start this again, Master. I have made my feelings clear.>
<You have,> Master Huang said in a resigned tone. <And we have chosen to respect your wishes in this matter, though the very fate of Earthrealm rests in the balance. If you were to fight without the intentions in your heart true, you would lose.>
There was pointed moment of silence in which Master Huang waited to see if Danny would respond. When he did not, Master Huang continued, <However, I am not here to try and persuade you. Instead I have come to tell you in person, as I believe you deserve that much, that Kung Lao has taken your place in the Tournament.>
"What?" Danny almost shouted, his head snapping toward his Master. <Why? Why would he->
<Because the fate of all life on Earth rests in the balance. Because he believes it a cause worth fighting for. Because->
<Because he's a fool who's going to get himself killed!>
Storming out of his office, leaving an exasperated Master Huang in his wake, Danny caused Christopher to jump when he opened the door.
"Christopher have the jet prepped immediately," Danny barked, causing Christopher to jump again as he fumbled with his phone. "I need to get to Hong Kong as soon as possible."
Hong Kong
The motor creaked and rattled as it lifted the rusted metal door to the warehouse. Years of ocean spray here on the docks have not been kind to it. When the poor thing finally made it high enough, a large unmarked moving truck drove in, flanked on both sides by black SUVs.
As soon as they were in the metal door began to lower just as noisily as before. So loud, the man standing in the door of the large office in the center of the warehouse had to shout to be heard. "Kano, they're here!"
"I can 'ear. I'm not deaf, fool."
Kano stood up and downed what was left of his beer, tossing the bottle behind him with no care for where it landed. The large, muscular man rubbed a hand through his sweaty brown hair. His face had a full beard that was groomed far better than the rest of the man. A sweat stained tank top and golden chains were all he wore on his torso. A pair of combat boots and ripped khaki cargo pants completed his look. That, and the giant metal implant that took up most of the right side of his face where his eye once was. The red eye glowed bright red inside his custom prosthetic.
"Les go make some money," Kano said with a wicked grin.
They made their way to where the caravan was parked. Kano's men, all members of the Black Dragon organization, surrounded the vehicles with their assault rifles ready. Kano scanned the walkways above to make sure his men were in position there as well.
All eight doors of the two SUVs opened for the passengers to exit. The occupants of the moving truck remained inside. The ten Chinese men, all in fancy business suits and holding their own automatic weapons, took up a defensive position around the truck.
"Oh Zheng, it's always so nice doin' business with the Triad," Kano laughed at the man in the center of the group, the one with a deep scar across his chin. "Such warm fellas, eh?"
"As warm as the welcome from your Black Dragon thugs," Zheng replied, his face cold as ice. "Let us get this over with. I suddenly feel the need to bathe."
"You'll be bathing in money tonight, Zhengy," Kano laughed. He grabbed two beers out of a cooler nearby and tore the caps off. As he walked over he took a long gulp from one and handed the other to Zheng. "Let's see this merchandise."
Handing the beer to one of his men, a disgusted look on his face, Zheng followed Kano to the back of the truck. He nodded to another of his men to open it, revealing a stack of ten long wooden crates. Two of the Triad men grabbed a crate from the top and hefted it down to the floor.
"Ooyee, must be mah birthday," Kano laughed, tossing his half finished beer aside so he could pull the top of the crate opened. There, sitting amongst the packing hay, were four large, military grade rocket launchers. "And 'ere are the fireworks."
As if on cue, the entire east side of the building erupted in an explosion. Three of the Black Dragon men were thrown in the blast, one falling from the upper walkway. Everyone raised their weapons, unsure if to point them toward the blast or at each other, each side fearing a double cross.
"This is Officer Chun-Li Xiang of INTERPOL!" a voice called out over a bullhorn. The smoke and dust hadn't settled enough yet for anyone to see through, save for Kano's prosthetic eye. "Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!"
The announcement was repeated again in Chinese. The sounds of multiple helicopters circled the building outside. The Triad and Black Dragon men both waited for some sign from their leaders of what to do. Kano decided to give them one.
"Looks like we get to do a field test," Kano laughed as he grabbed one of the rocket launchers from the crate. With unexpected expertise, Kano loaded the launcher in seconds, used his eye to aim through the debris to the center of the circled Interpol vehicles outside, and fired. "Here's a warm Black Dragon welcome for ya, baby!"
-To Be Continued-