Chapter Text
Stryker woke up to unfamiliar smells and even less familiar sights. Some dark, humid room no doubt in some far off corner of the coliseum. A foul stench filled it, one look to his side revealed it to be some type of incense. A set of long sticks burning at their tip stuck into a pile of sand and mud in a circular pattern. Stryker had never seen incense like that before, though the only ones he had seen before were from that dodgy Chinese massage place over on main street.
His wounds had healed well enough, but he had little desire to get up. He didn’t want to return to what his body was dragged away from. That thing’s thick, tiger-like skull was burned into his memory. He saw it fall to the ground dead, and yet he was afraid anytime he opened his eyes, Kintaro would be there to finish the job. What monsters would he have to deal with next?
He wasn’t sure if anyone else was in the room. His itchy bed, which felt like it was made from a sack used to transport potatoes. was up against the corner. The only views he had to enjoy was the unlit lantern dangling above him on the ceiling, a wall to his side, and another farther wall to his other, with incense and bloody rags littering the floor. He could check what was on the other end of the room, but that would require sitting up, and Stryker saw that as too much of a hassle at the moment.
A few coughs came from that part of the room. Could have been the wind, could have been Liu Kang, could have been the healers. The answer to that question wasn’t worth the effort.
“You’ve been here longer than I have, so I refuse to believe you’re still asleep when I’m not, Stryker.” Kung Lao’s voice came. Stryker still didn’t budge though. He already got the answer without needing to move, lucky him.
“I see your fight happened.” Stryker groaned, rubbing his eyes, then his forehead, hoping he had a fever he could use as an excuse to Fujin. “Did you win?”
“I’m alive aren’t I?”
“Liu Kang’s alive and he didn’t win.”
“I don’t think my opponent would have spared me the same mercy Jade did to him.”
Stryker thought back to that fight. Seeing Jade walk away after he had been holding his breath for what felt like ages was something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. “Why did she do that?”
“Who knows.” Kung Lao said. “My working theory is that Kitana likes him back, and Jade doesn’t want to ruin their perfect love story.”
“Likes him back? Liu’s into her?”
Kung Lao chuckled. “Was it not obvious?”
“The only time I’ve seen them together was when they were beating each other senseless.” Stryker said. “Didn’t see any sparks flaring.”
“Not even when Kitana was on top of him silently for like thirty seconds?”
“Eh…” Stryker replied dismissively.
“Neither one moving, just staring into the other’s eyes?”
“Okay, maybe you have a point.” Stryker relented. “Is he over there with you?”
There was a pause, Stryker worried he made things uncomfortable.
“No, he isn’t.” Lao replied. “He left a while ago actually. He’s with Fujin now.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to just go out there all on his own?”
“Fujin was there to pick him up, with Sub-Zero.” Lao said. “They looked like they were in a hurry.”
“Sub-Zero?” Stryker struggled to remember which one that was, then was marvelled when he did. “Holy shit, so Smoke got him back?”
“Seems like it.” Lao said, his tone wasn’t as chipper as Kurtis thought it would be.
“What’s wrong? Was the guy really fucked up or something?”
“No, actually. The wounds from his battle with Scorpion seemed to have healed. But two men went out for him. If one was now fighting in the tournament, shouldn’t the other have been by Fujin’s side?”
“The other one?” Stryker said, confused. ‘Oh shit, right, Cage went to help get him.”
“An obvious way to gain Blade’s favor.”
“Now that, I noticed.” Stryker laughed softly. “So what, do you think the rest are dead?”
“A bit pessimistic.”
“Is that not why you’re so concerned?”
“They could be captured.”
“Maybe Sonya and Jax didn’t want to leave unless they got Kano for good.”
“Sure, I guess that could also be true.” Kung Lao said, not an ounce of confidence.
It would make sense, Stryker thought. That Smoke guy, for as long as he silently observed him, didn’t seem to care much for the others aside from the blue ninja. It wasn’t hard to imagine him escaping with Sub-Zero and leaving the rest to their business.
“Did Fujin or Sub-Zero tell you what happened?” Stryker asked.
“No, like I said they were in a hurry.” Kung Lao said. “Besides, neither Fujin or Sub-Zero could get in here themselves. It was a part of the rules Raiden and Shao Kahn agreed to with the Elder Gods. That no one other than the wounded of the realm and healers could enter the respective chambers allotted for their recovery.”
“Right, then the healers come in and stick a knife down our throats.”
“Raiden probably thought of some other way to circumvent that. I don’t know.” Kung Lao threw his hands up. “I’m sure Raiden figured something out, I’m just saying what Fujin told me before they hurried out with Liu Kang.”
Stryker smiled as if Kung Lao could see it from his own bed. “Let’s hope.”
“If they do kill us…” Kung Lao said while letting out a heavy sigh. “I hope they do it while I’m napping. And through the brain, not the throat. Quick and painless.”
“Don’t even.” Stryker groaned.
“Don’t want to think about it?”
“Nope, not for one more second.” Stryker placed the back of his palm over his eyes. “I’m already paranoid that tiger freak is going to appear right in front of me, I don’t need that piling on it.”
“The dead tiger freak.” Kung Lao corrected. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Remind me, which one of you is alive, and which one has a throat riddled with bullets.”
Stryker managed a single uneasy chuckle. “I thought I was going to die.”
“You’re a cop, I thought you would be used to it.”
“I’m used to junkies, gang members, and the occasional Black Dragon operative. Not this. Not being thrown around like I weigh nothing.”
“If you’re going to keep fighting, I suggest you get used to it.” Kung Lao said.
“Easy for you to say. This is your second time doing this bullshit, meanwhile I learned this existed today when a lightning god teleported into the middle of New York.”
“Johnny Cage only learned of the tournament a few weeks before he was out there punching demons in their testicles.” Kung Lao recalled with a smile.
“Was he so gung-ho about everything the first time around?”
Kung Lao paused long enough for Stryker to know the real answer. “Yes.”
“Good for him, but I’m not some coked-up LA movie star with a million dollars and a penthouse. I don’t even have a house for Christ’s sake.”
The Shaolin monk quickly shot up from his bed, his interest newly perked. “You think Cage is on cocaine?”
Stryker stammered a couple of times. He nearly continued on with his rant before he processed the monk’s question. “I—I don’t know.”
“C’mon, you’re a cop, you should know these things!”
“Maybe. Maybe he’s high, maybe he’s just nuts. Definitely high on his own ego though.”
Kung Lao let out a genuine laugh, then began to speak as if he regarded Cage highly. An unusual sight for an American such as Stryker. From his point of view, Cage was more tabloid cover model than movie star at this point.
“Any man or woman in his position would have an ego, and I don’t blame them. Can fight better than most of the planet, and can literally bathe in his own money. I know a few monks who would literally give up on their vows in a heartbeat for a chance at that.”
“Really?” Stryker said, in mild disbelief. “Sounds like pretty shit monks to me.”
Expecting some witty or snarky comment to be thrown his way, Stryker lightly panicked internally when dead silence was his response. Had he been too blunt? He nearly embarrassed himself by stuttering out a limp apology—Kung Lao’s voice returned just in time to stop all that.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Kung Lao admitted. “Most of the White Lotus monks don’t really respect the whole ‘monk’ part.”
“White Lotus?” Stryker tried scouring his memories if the term had ever been mentioned before, in fear of embarrassing himself in another way.
“White Lotus. A special sect of Shaolin Monks organized by the gods of Earthrealm to train and be the defenders of the realm from any outside threats.” Kung Lao said it as if he had it memorized. “Me and Liu Kang joined when we were kids. My parents were White Lotus, so naturally, I followed suit.”
“And what, all of you just drink and eat meat whenever you like?” Stryker had a laugh.
“Some.” Kung Lao replied. “With the fate of the world in our hands, things like celibacy and not eating meat don’t seem that important. Most of us have broken our vows at some point or another. Hell, how do you think I was born?”
“Must have been a big scandal.”
“Eclipsed by every other example of White Lotus licentiousness.” Kung Lao said dejectedly. “No one takes those oaths seriously. No one, but Liu Kang.”
Stryker raised his head in renewed interest. “Really?”
“Yep.” Kung Lao said aptly. “He was a boy scout. The White Lotus’ darling. When we were in training, Raiden and Fujin and the elderly Shaolin did everything they could to make him our new poster boy. To wash away our unclean reputation amongst the rest of the Shaolin monks.”
“Did it work?”
“Oh, yes. It did.” Kung Lao said, a touch bitter. “Everyone started to think highly of us again, all thanks to him. Each time he won a sparring match without breaking a sweat and flashed that big smile of his, the more our reputation improved.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I was. Still kinda am. He doesn’t intend to show off, he just…is. Virtuous without even trying. Drove me crazy.” Kung Lao’s jealousy then turned into melancholic mumbling. “Never thought I would miss those days.”
“Ah c’mon, being attracted to girls is normal. So what if they’re from another dimension.”
Kung Lao took in such a deep sigh that even a pair of ears on the other side of the rather long room they were in caught it. It also made him realize the strength of the incense scent.
“You saw us bickering, didn’t you?” Kung Lao asked. “Arguing like children.” He said, shamefully.
“Your monk rules can’t be that strict. It’s not like he even did anything with her yet.”
“It’s not that.” Kung Lao’s fingers rubbed his temples slowly.
“What is it then?”
“You saw him vote for Sonya’s leave.” Kung Lao’s frustration began to mount. "Voting in favor of them risking their lives for murder.”
“It’s Kano.” Stryker said bluntly.
“I know it’s Kano, that’s not the point.” Kung Lao didn’t intend to say it so aggressively, but even broaching the subject was enough for the frustration of his internal thoughts to spill out. “He allowed half of Earthrealm’s kombatants run off to some mountains no one was familiar with, for the sole purpose of killing someone, risking being caught without kombatants to fight. That’s an immediate forfeit, do you know that?”
“No.” Stryker said with regret.”Looking back, I probably should have sided with you on that one.”
“At least you have an excuse. But Liu Kang knew. He knew, and said they should go on anyway. He used to be vehemently against killing in all forms. Even if it’s someone evil. Especially when the person is evil.”
“I’ve been a cop for a while, that is not an absolute anyone should hold.” Stryker words were mired in painful recollections.
“Oh, it got annoying, trust me. You have no idea how many times he tried talking me out of using the hat. His speeches were preachy and grating, but that’s who he was. That’s who Liu Kang is.”
“Why do you care?” Stryker asked. “Doesn’t sound like you care much about those vows of yours either.”
“I don’t. Not really. But Liu Kang does. They were the most important things in the world to him.” Kung Lao slumped back into bed. “I’ve never even seen him eat meat. Now, he talks as if he won’t care if all of Outworld drops dead.”
“You can only get thrown around and beaten into dirt by people who want you dead so many times until it gets to you.” Stryker recalled the agony in his chest not long ago. “I’ve been in one fight, and I want this entire place wiped. It could happen to anyone.”
“Not Liu Kang. Never Liu Kang.” The conviction in his voice was as strong as steel. “The sky could turn red, the sun could rise from the west, but Liu Kang would never betray his vows.”
“A lot of things are weird about this place, wouldn’t be surprised if those two other things are also true here.”
“Now’s not the time for jokes.” Kung Lao said sternly.
“I’m not.” Stryker treated this with the same gravity Kung Lao did. “You said yourself to get used to this place, and to me it sounds like Liu Kang’s gotten used to it.”
“It’s not who he is.”
“Shouldn’t that be up to him?” Stryker asked, and Kung Lao just buried his face into his hands. Was he right? Was Kung Lao just being selfish? He felt like a child acting out. Throwing a tantrum because things weren’t going the way he deemed it should. It felt pathetic. However, that tiny drop of doubt wasn’t enough to throw him off this path he insists was right.
“Besides.” Stryker continued. “If we win this, Outworld won’t be a problem anymore, right?”
“I feel like this is a slippery slope.” Kung Lao replied. “One that won’t end whether Outworld is there to accelerate it or not.”
Stryker could have continued. He didn’t want to, this began to feel uncomfortable, but he could.
The sturdy wooden doors creaked open, draining the smell of the incense from the room, as well as bringing in a gust of air that felt refreshing. Stryker especially welcomed their arrival. Apart from disengaging the conversation, it was pleasant to finally have some light beam into the room after waking up in darkness.
The healers rushed in, four of them, each holding the limb of their new patient as they carried his body to an empty bed. His body was obscured by the bodies of the Outworld medics, but the few glimpses of grey clothing made the identity obvious.
Along with them, came Fujin, who asked the both of them to come with.
Stryker stretched out his limbs, preparing to bid farewell to the comfort of this itchy, bloody bed. During this brief moment of sloth, he saw Liu Kang standing behind Fujin. His body was good as ever, replenished from any sort of pain or injury. It was as if he never fought a battle in his life. His face, however, seemed as if he had just fought a thousand of them.
Gone was the optimistic smile that comforted Kurtis Stryker on the carriage ride to this place. Gone was everything other than a slightly sullen expression. His eyes were bereft of anything, drawn to the floor, gaining no joy when the sight of Kung Lao came to him.