Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat belongs to the creation of Ed Boone and John Tobias and the Midway team. It was created in no way by either me or Victar. No part of this story may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, without express permission by Victar. I did not write this story, but I had permission to post this, so if you want to talk to him about the fanfiction, go to Victar's website (in my profile).
THE COMING OF WINTER
Part 4 of 4: Section 4 written by Victar
Victar's Archive:
Part 4 Section 4
Scorpion's delay had cost me my opportunity to kill Shang Tsung.
Indescribable acrimony engulfed me as I dashed for the shelter of the side tunnels leading from Goro's lair. The pressing, maddening astringency was a dangerous distraction from the life-threatening chaos of Shang Tsung's dying palace. Pieces of falling masonry came close to killing me when I dived into the closest tunnel opening. I skidded into another pile of rubble.
This tunnel's interior had caved in, turning it into a cul-de-sac. More plummeting debris accumulated in front of the tunnel's entrance, reducing the already poor visibility within to nearly zero - except for the illumination of two milk-white eyes, glowing eerily in the darkness. The faint outline of an unmasked skull framed their soft radiance.
I was not surprised to find Scorpion waiting for me. If anything, I was glad.
"You cost me my kill," I growled.
We must leave this place. Come with me. He held out a skeletal hand.
I launched forward in a catlike pounce, tackling him. His empty eyes grew a shade wider when he hit the ground. Chambering my fist close to my ribs, I pounded him with a straight punch that knocked several teeth out of his maxilla and mandible. Scorpion's body suddenly reverted from solid to ghostly; my follow-up punch passed through his dissipating form, and I bloodied my knuckles on the hard rock underneath.
You murdering fool! he snapped as he reformed to my left. I only want to kill you. But there are horrors that even the dead fear, as you will find out if the vortex born of Shang Tsung's destruction ensnares your soul! I can transport us both to a place where we may finish this without outside interference, if you will only stand still!
No. No deals. No delays. He'd sacrificed that option when he cost me my kill. While he wasted his breath on useless explanations, I summoned a minimal amount Power and cast it at his flickering image. He brought up his skeletal arms in a king's X, warding off the sprinkling of Ice, but the Power had been merely a feint. Recovering quickly from the weak burst of Ice, I'd begun my charge as soon as it left my hands, and left the ground when crystals scattered across his guard. I extended my lead leg, keeping it straight and flexing the heel, the better to drive my full weight into his torso.
Scorpion tried to dodge by turning sideways; I hooked my knee in a midair kick that scored a glancing blow to his chest. One of his ribs fractured with a faint snap sound. The enclosed chamber's wall was rushing toward me; as I landed from the flying kick, I stumbled into the rough stone, bruising my shin and shoulder.
The specter was already upon me, tethered spear in hand. I knew he would hurl it toward my heart before he moved to do so; that anticipation saved my life. My palm pushed upon the spear's shaft perpendicular to its forward thrust, deflecting its course. Its lethal tip scored a gash on the stone wall behind me, creating a small shower of sparks. Undaunted, Scorpion lifted his knee and rammed the ball of his foot into my stomach. The distance between us softened the kick more than my training to absorb impacts with a minimum of damage. Even so, it was good that I had not eaten recently.
I doubled over, folding my arms and pressing them under my ribcage. The specter advanced. Eager to press his advantage, he didn't realize my deceit until I snapped out of the pose and gripped his shoulders. I hopped like a jumping songbird, planting my feet where my hands had been and pushing off him as if he were a springboard. He tumbled backwards while I flipped through the air and landed in a full-forward stance, waiting for his next move.
Scorpion recovered quickly from his fall. The fiery nimbus of his Power surrounded him, concentrated most fiercely upon his head and eyes. He took one look at the distance between us and hurled his mystic spear across the expanse.
His mistake.
He should have known better than to try the same maneuver on me twice. I propelled myself into a forward flip. As the spear hurtled underneath me, I reached and plucked it out of the air with both hands, using my forward spin to redirect its momentum. Scorpion was frozen in that timeless instant of helplessness forced upon one who projects more than the slightest effort into his Power. I pushed the weapon into his upper body, angling its tip slightly upward between the fourth and fifth ribs of his left breast.
The point of Scorpion's own sting protruded out through his back. He bled, if the brackish, watery substance seeping from the puncture could be called blood. His legs shivered and refused to support his weight. He leaned against the wall and slumped, in an eerie replay of that fatal night two years ago.
Outside the cul-de-sac, crackling bursts of lightning and thunder split the air. A monstrous typhoon whipped stone blocks like a summer wind stirs dry leaves. Oppressive waves of unimaginable Power run wild washed over everything. Leaving Scorpion's still form behind, I approached the tunnel's mouth and glimpsed the cacophony's source: a steadily growing bubble of pure black. The vortex sucked rubble off the floor. Disappearing chunks of dirt and stone changed color, flashing through the visible spectrum from violet to deep red before they were lost within the amorphous black mass. Its jet surface was already pressing against the half-covered opening of this recess. The convex sable wall steadily absorbed the pile of fallen stone across the cul-de-sac's entrance and began to push inside. Loose cloth upon my ceremonial uniform flapped from the dark matter's hurricane pull, which threatened to sweep me off my feet. I backed up to the niche's far wall.
My mistake.
You - come - HERE!
An ageless hand closed around my throat, cutting off my breath. I called the Power to my defense, but another limb, dry and sturdy as an ancient tree branch, struck the back of my head. My focus was lost; my thoughts were stunned. No amount of struggling could resist the hands that lifted me lengthwise. Lack of air caused spots to flash before my eyes, yet I had a momentary downward glimpse of Scorpion holding me high, his eyes afire with bloodlust. His own spear still protruded through his ribcage.
I should have realized our battle was still in progress. He hadn't stayed dead the first time I killed him, after all; but I'm too accustomed to enemies who stay put once their heart has stopped. The specter had surprised me with the stealth and ruthlessness worthy of a Lin Kuei.
You dare to murder me twice, he spat, nearly choking on his own hatred. For that, you will die twice! And your second death will be annihilation of the SOUL! The specter carried me forward and flung me into the rippling sable surface.
A universe of blackness imploded, constricting me in a slowly tightening vise. Ghostly, prying talons curled around the central focus of my being and rent it asunder. Scorpion's maniacal cry of triumph followed me into the depths of perdition... until I came to my senses, spread-eagled on the dry soil of a place that was too damn hot.
I opened my eyes and saw a demon.
The fireworm's slavering jaws were about to clamp down on my arm when a frigid gust of wind blew, upsetting his aerial balance. He rolled over, twisting and straining his wings to regain lift. A broad shadow fell upon his segmented body.
zzzWHO DARESzzz!?
Keening, musical cries sounded. They were the ringing of fine crystal, delicate and graceful, yet projected with so much strength they drowned out the fireworm's buzzing. Hovering above the evil monster was something almost as large. Its partly translucent body refracted the sun's rays into a dazzling prism. The fireworm's compound eyes flickered from white to deep red to violet, adjusting to the intense brilliance. Squinting, I traced the graceful pattern of light in the form of a slender neck, four elegantly clawed legs, a coachwhip tail, and a vast pair of wings spread wide.
She was an ice dragon.
My ice dragon.
She was a gleaming shard of Paradise come to life. Her aura was a clear beacon of lost innocence, unsullied by mortal greed or evil. She was as beautiful as she had been the day I'd crafted her.
Circling above the fireworm, she lowered her head and opened her triangular mouth. What poured out was not the flaming, noxious stink of lesser creatures. Pure hoarfrost sparkled in the wake of her respiration, coating the fireworm's scales, stopping four pairs of his wings, dusting the insect legs that held me and soothing my burns. The fireworm sank lower, hovering only a few meters above the ground. Invigorated by the sudden temperature plunge, I forced my arms apart, shattering the worm's restraining limbs. Ice had made the insect legs so brittle they snapped into pieces, broken off at frozen stumps. My scorched leg buckled underneath me when I landed.
Overhead, the battle raged on. The ice dragon exhaled another cone of hoarfrost breath, but something was wrong - it missed the fireworm, which twisted and curled around the deadly vapor, his remaining multitude of wings keeping him perfectly suspended.
zzzSTUPID BEAzzzST! YOU CANNOT zzzSTOP THE LIVING AVATAR OF POWERzzz! He retaliated with his own breath weapon, which shot forward and cut into her side. One of her magnificent wings simply vanished, vaporized by the fiery torrent. A deep, hollowed gash in her body marked where it had been. There was no blood, only dripping ice water. Unable to stay aloft, she crashed heavily on her wounded side.
"No!" I shouted, involuntarily. I limped toward where she had fallen.
zzzSEE, BEAzzzST? zzzYOU'RE ASzzz WEAK ASzzz THE FLESHLING YOU TRY TO PROTECTzzz! taunted the fireworm, darting low. The ice dragon's serpentine neck darted upward; she tried to bite her enemy's throat. Again, the attack missed. Her glittering icicle teeth chipped upon one of the bony frills extending from the back of his head.
zzzENOUGH OF THISzzz! zzzDIEzzz! The worm breathed his fiery wrath upon the grounded dragon. She countered with her hoarfrost exhalation. Fire met Ice as I reached her side; the two elements reacted violently with one another, throwing off wide jets of hot steam.
"Shang Tsung! Leave her alone!" I yelled, but my words were swallowed up in the hissing pandemonium of their struggle. Desperately, I threw myself at the only part of the fireworm close enough for me to reach - the tip of his dangling tail. A slight coating of Power on my hands only partly protected them from his scalding armor plates.
zzzWHAT ISzzz THISzzz? zzzAWAY, PEzzzST! zzzI'LL DISzzzMEMBER YOU zzzSOON ENOUGHzzz! He lashed his tail until it slipped from of my burned fingers. I hurtled through the air, rolling as I hit the ground in a haphazard attempt to soften my fall. zzzSTUPID FLESHLING, YOU CANNOT OPPOzzzSE ME! zzzI AM SHANG zzzTSUNG! I AM INVINzzzCIBLE! I AMzzzZZZZZZZZAAAAH-
Wrapped up in his boasts, Shang Tsung did not react to my ice dragon's lunge until too late. She reared up on the tripod of her hind legs and tail, locking her icicle teeth and front claws upon the creases in the fireworm's neck plates, behind the frill shielding his head. His cord-like body thrashed wildly, yet his remaining wings were not strong enough to lift both himself and her. Bit by bit, she dragged him down to earth.
zzzNO, NOOO! LET ME GO, LET ME GO, LET ME GOOOOOzzz! The fireworm spat his breath weapon, but was unable to turn his head toward his captor. His flames blasted empty space. Screaming, he called upon his turbulent reserves of Power. His segmented body burst into reddish-yellow gouts of Fire, which carved melting, steaming rents in the ice dragon's ethereal body. One of her front legs dissolved completely. Still, she did not release him.
The Power was already on my hands as I limped toward them, desperate to destroy the monstrous thing that was killing my ice dragon. Heedless of her own injuries, she pinned his head down, exposing the underside of his throat. Limbo's dusty earth smothered some of his surrounding flames.
I knew exactly what to do.
I reached past my spent psyche, beyond reserves of inner strength long since sacrificed, into the wellspring that powered my own survival, and from that pool forged a sword of glittering Ice diamonds. Its sharpness and strength were tied into the endurance of my own heart and lungs. Its edge was serrated, paper-thin yet reinforced with pure Power. Ignoring the worm's oppressive fire and calamitous struggles, I swung the executioner's blade down upon the slight gap between the armor plates on his throat. The weapon slipped through, chopping part-way into the soft flesh beneath. I used the sword as a saw, wearing through the exoskeleton edges on either side of his neck.
zzzNOOO, IT'Szzz NOT FAIR! TWO AGAINzzzST ONE! IT'Szzz NOT FAAAAIR! IT'Szzz NOT- A final, grinding cut stifled the fireworm's wails, as his head rolled free of his squirming body. Black blood gushed from the cut. The flames engulfing his body died down, yet continued to smoulder. I allowed the sword to dissipate.
Something twisted in my insides.
I slumped upon the ground. A spike of coldness pierced my gut - coldness as ordinary mortals must feel it, attacking with an intensity that caused me to shiver uncontrollably. It was unreal. My Power should have protected me; it always protects me from cold, even when I am not calling upon it, but I could not deny the sinking, piercing sensation within.
Smoke had warned me about this.
What had he said...? Something about my having a maximum of nine years left. He never did mention the minimum. Since then, I could not begin to recall how many times I'd summoned the Power - nay, tested the boundaries of what it could do. Creating the sword had been the final straw. At long last, the Power was exacting its price.
The ice dragon's long, elegant neck dipped down. She nuzzled me gently. Looking at her face, I saw what had hindered her aim during the battle. A smooth expanse of unbroken ice stretched where her eyes should have been. She was blind.
It took unimaginable effort to lift one arm and extend my hand toward her face. I tried to call forth the tiny modicum of Power needed to give her eyes. None came. I'd pushed my limits too far. The daggers inside me twisted. My outstretched hand flopped on the earth.
"I'm sorry," I gasped. "I can't..."
The ice dragon bumped her head against mine a little more urgently. She sang a soft, anxious warble. Her teeth delicately closed on the shoulder padding of my frayed uniform and used it to drag me away from the fireworm's smoking corpse. She pulled her battered frame forward on three legs, too badly injured to lift herself fully off the ground, and arranged herself in a semicircle between me and the dead worm. Her remaining wing extended over my head. I tried to pull myself into a sitting position and only succeeded in rolling onto my back. The ice dragon trilled, an exquisite high note accompanied by a worried counter tone.
"What is it, girl? What is wrong?"
She never had a chance to answer. A cataclysmic explosion erupted from the dead fireworm, spilling its monumental expense of Power in a blaze of heat and light. Immense gushes of Power were cast off, only to be absorbed and lost in Limbo's endless wastes. My ice dragon was shadowed for an instant in the infernal backlash before she broke apart, each fragment instantly transmuting to vapor or water droplets.
I lay still for a long time. The explosion could have killed me, easily, yet I was untouched. At last I regained enough strength to painfully sit up. A blasted, blackened patch of earth marked where the fireworm had been. I looked down at all that remained of my ice dragon: a shallow pool of water, inert and very cold. The fire-scarred face of a stranger stared back at me.
She was gone.
The only thing I'd ever loved... gone.
"No. You didn't have to do that," I whispered. She didn't have to throw away her life to protect my worthless soul. She had no right to make that decision. I'd rather Shang Tsung had killed me. I'd rather anything but this.
Damn it all. She didn't have the right.
Warm bitterness welled within the inside corners of my eyes, in sharp contrast to the chill lacing my intestines. The still pool of water reflected an impossibility - twin droplets of moisture gradually trickling down the stranger's cheeks. They hung from either side of his chin for a moment, then fell free. A pair of expanding concentric ripples sprouted upon the pool's surface, breaking up the reflection.
The shimmering ripples changed color to gold.
Bubbles floated and burst upon the now gilded pool. It boiled without sound or heat, emitting bright beams of piercing light instead. From everywhere and nowhere came a sibilant, familiar whisper, quiet as silt, soft as soapstone.
For every path into Limbo, there is a way out.
The pond's roughly circular border glowed with golden radiance, while the center flickered with a multitude of different colors, shapes and patterns.
Choose your destiny.
"-any new information?" I jerked bolt upright, recognizing my brother's voice.
An image of my Lin Kuei quarters molded in the pool's center, with vibrance and texture far more substantial than any mere reflection. Frost coated the surrounding walls. A throne of carved ice lay in the background. Looking into the hub, I saw my young brother putting on the last few vestments of Lin Kuei ceremonial garb. His uniform was colored black with deep blue highlights, as befits an Ice master. Smoke was there too. He was wearing his mask. The scene in the pool was so clear, so real it looked like I could step into it - and suddenly, without being told, I knew I could do exactly that. If I so chose.
"I received a message," Smoke rasped, "from a being who called himself Raiden." He shook his head. "I stopped believing in gods and devils a long time ago, but if Raiden is not a god then I haven't a clue what-"
"Will you get to the point?"
"The message was about a blood debt that I owe your brother. I was reluctant to believe it earlier, but I'm beginning to think he really is dead. If he were still around, he would have demanded repayment in person. He never did like relying on intermediaries."
"That is far from empirical proof."
"In any case, it seems that a second Tournament approaches. I'm going to be there."
"No, you are not. I am," the young Ice master corrected, drawing the uniform's sable hood over his head. "I can think of no better place to start looking for answers."
"There might be one. The last time I saw your brother, he had just crafted a book of Ice. It carried a dormant enchantment."
"Yes, I felt its presence within the throne the moment I entered this chamber. The first page has a single sentence: 'Only an Ice master can read this.' The rest is blank."
"Not very helpful. Hm. I thought that your finding the book might activate its Power, but something else must be the trigger. Still, are you sure you want to risk your life on the off-chance you might learn what happened to-"
"This isn't solely about my brother," he interrupted, slipping on his pair of fingerless gloves and pulling them taut. "Shang Tsung's patron must be stopped."
"How would you know about Shang Tsung's patron?"
"Because Raiden also appeared to me. He told me about this second Tournament, and the threat it poses to our world. I'm one of the few mortals with a chance of turning back that threat."
"And your instructor is not?"
"That isn't the issue. You should not engage in strenuous activity; I won't hear any more protests."
"Yes Master," Smoke drawled, a little too obsequiously.
"I told you not to call me that," my brother sighed, slightly vexed. "You are a free man now. Get used to it."
"Indeed? Then you cannot forbid me to play a role in this Tournament. Not in any meaningful sense."
"What? Smoke, don't fool yourself, you aren't ready to-"
"I am always ready," he interrupted, quietly. "Your concern is touching, but should be saved for yourself. I know my limits better than you think."
"Hmph. Ninja make the worst patients."
"Oh, and what am I supposed to call you while we're there? You haven't selected a use-name for yourself yet."
"Then I choose one now." He adjusted the deep blue mask so that it covered his entire face except for his eyes. His build was a little shorter and slighter than mine, but the uniform concealed the disparity. Only someone who knew both of us extremely well could have distinguished the difference. "I will be Sub-Zero. If my brother objects to that, he can come to me and complain. In fact, I hope he does."
The dull knife of creeping coldness within twisted when I heard that name. A series of uncontrollable shivers wracked me. I had been on the verge of reaching for the pool's sparkling surface; yet now I remembered that the last time I interfered with my brother's destiny, I'd wronged him greatly.
Choose.
"No. Not there," I replied, shaking my head. "It is for the best. Show me someplace else."
The image in the pool faded, replaced by a flat obsidian expanse marked with a pentagram. Burned-out, melted remains of white candles rested on its five points. A desiccated corpse lay in the center. Though the face was too pinched and mummified to recognize, the yellow-and-black clothing on the remains precisely matched what Shang Tsung had been wearing when I confronted him in his youthful form. A shadow fell over the husk.
"SO, IT IS TRUE," boomed a deep, insidious voice. While I could not see the speaker, the fringe of his loathsome aura infested the edge of my perspective. So much corrupted Power flowed through him that he was close to the threshold of godhood. He could be none other than Shang Tsung's patron, Emperor Shao Kahn. "HOW IN ALL THE WORLDS WERE YOU KILLED WHILE IN A STATE OF ASTRAL PROJECTION? I MUST KNOW. I SHALL KNOW!"
A streak of green electricity jolted Shang Tsung's body. His limbs twitched wildly, and his back arched off the floor. Dry, shriveled skin became softer and smoother. In a matter of seconds, the husk transmuted into flesh and blood. The electricity vanished. Shang Tsung started to breathe.
"AWAKEN, SLAVE!" Another jolt of viridescent electricity hit him, but its purpose this time was to hurt, not to heal. Shang Tsung screamed in pain, involuntarily writhing from the affliction. The Kahn chuckled, and continued the torture for a full thirty seconds after the necromancer's milk-white, pupilless eyes opened.
"-fair!" gasped the necromancer. His face rapidly cycled through a series of expressions - fear, shock, anger, frustration, hatred, and back to fear. "M-master! I can explain-"
"NO NEED." Shang Tsung screeched and clutched his head. "I ADVISE YOU TO BE STILL. THE MORE YOU FIGHT THE MIND PROBE, THE LONGER IT WILL TAKE." The necromancer stifled his cries, though an expression of agony remained on his face.
"SO THAT IS HOW IT WAS DONE," mused the Kahn, after an interminable interlude. Shang Tsung let go of his head and sprawled on the floor, heaving and shuddering. "YOU ARE FORTUNATE YOU DID NOT HAVE THE COURAGE TO FACE THIS MORTAL IN PERSON, OR YOU WOULD HAVE LOST YOUR SOUL TO LIMBO!" The fell emperor's pronouncement gave way to mocking laughter.
"I'm quite aware of that," Shang Tsung muttered, gritting his teeth.
"INDEED? AND ARE YOU AWARE HOW MUCH OF MY POWER YOU WASTED, LOST FOREVER TO THAT INSATIABLE DESERT?"
"I-I didn't mean-"
"SILENCE!" One more flash of emerald electricity engulfed the necromancer; to his credit, he bit back the urge to cry out.
"YOU ARE DOUBLY FORTUNATE THAT I AM IN A MERCIFUL MOOD, SLAVE. SINCE I HAVE ALREADY EXPENDED THE EFFORT TO REANIMATE YOU, YOU MAY AS WELL STAY ALIVE, SO LONG AS YOU REMAIN USEFUL - BUT DO NOT EXPECT TO BORROW POWER FROM ME AGAIN! FROM THIS MOMENT HEREON YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO USE ASTRAL PROJECTION, OR ANY OTHER TECHNIQUE BEYOND YOUR OWN MEAGER SKILLS!"
Shang Tsung nervously licked his lips. "Y-yes, Master. Thank you, Master." Though the sorcerer mouthed words of gratitude, poorly restrained fury raged in his eyes.
"OH, AND SLAVE... TRY NOT TO GET KILLED AGAIN, UNLESS IT IS IN A SUITABLY AMUSING MANNER." Shao Kahn bellowed in laughter while the necromancer's ears burned red.
Choose.
I'd killed Shang Tsung once, and drained a significant portion of his master's Power, yet it was a Pyrrhic victory. When I accepted the final contract, I had known that my life and soul could be forfeit; such are the hazards of being an assassin. The ultimate price had been higher than that. Infinitely higher.
Damn her. She never had the right...
"No," I whispered, pressing one arm against the cold spike in my gut. "It is time for the others to carry on the fight against Shang Tsung and his patron. Show me something else."
The image in the pool metamorphosed into steaming pools of lava, flowing amidst tracks of scorched earth. Rising out of the superheated depths were columns of human skulls, randomly fused with muted yellow-and-brown mortar. Scorpion crouched atop the highest skull column, oblivious to his surroundings. His mask and hood were down, baring the fleshless skull that formed his head. His right hand was held out, palm upturned. A small bonfire burned upon the skeletal hand. The wavering form of a woman appeared in the fire.
Mei. I would give anything to see you again, to talk to you, the specter intoned, sorrowfully. You were always the practical one. You could make sense out of anything, no matter how insane.
I was allowed to return and avenge my death, Mei, but I can never again know you or our son. Existing in this cursed form, I can only observe, and I have seen something I do not understand. You believe the money that supports your wages and sends our boy to a private school comes from your relatives. It doesn't. They are merely intermediaries for an anonymous benefactor. I have discovered the sponsor's identity. He is none other than the assassin who murdered me. The fund he set up continues to sustain you, even though I have killed him.
Scorpion's free hand closed into a tightly drawn fist. It has to be a trap. Killing me wasn't enough; he wanted to gain leverage over you as well. I've exhausted myself in a search to learn more about his evil plan. Do you know what I found?
Nothing.
If he plotted to assassinate you, or enslave you, or extract a price in exchange for the donations, the scheme died with him. His own clan of killers does not know where he funneled his blood money. It doesn't make sense. Why did the fiend arrange this act of generosity? Did he think it would appease my wrath? If so, he was in error. Scorpion drew his clenched fist close to where his heart once was. I showed him no more mercy than he showed me!
I wish you could advise me, Mei. I would come back to you if I could. If there were any way. There is none. So I have devoted myself to the one thing I have left: revenge. I was trained, reforged, reborn in the fires of Hell for a single purpose: to destroy my murderer! And I succeeded. At long last, vengeance is mine...! As he voiced the proclamation, Scorpion, rose to his feet, lifting his fist in triumph. His head tilted back, raising his hollow eye sockets to whatever passes for a sky in Hell.
Then gradually, his undead gaze fell until it came to rest on the picture once more. His legs wobbled, folding back into a crouch. The fire-picture in his right hand died. He slumped, lowering his free arm. Its bony fist unclenched; the fingers hung limp and listless.
...and I don't know what to do.
Choose.
"No," I responded, succumbing to another episode of shivering. I killed Scorpion. He had as good as killed me. Our score was settled.
The scene in the pool changed to a lavish set of Lin Kuei personal quarters, decorated entirely in black. Hurricane and Toxin were each on one knee, respectfully addressing the shrouded Unknown.
"We don't mean to contest your wisdom," Hurricane muttered, glancing alternately at the Unknown's folded arms and the floor's scarlet carpeting. "It is only that Ultratech has held no love for us in the past. Are you sure that-" The Unknown's back was turned to me, so that I could not see what he signed, but whatever it was silenced Hurricane. The blue-and-white clad ninja swallowed, hanging his head.
"The Lin Kuei has survived without technology for over a millennium!" Toxin burst out, daring to lift her eyes to the Unknown's masked face. "We have no need of this alliance!" Standing up, the Unknown made a series of curt gestures that whipped the draping sleeves of his robe about.
"No, Lord. I-I do not challenge your authority," she stammered, looking away. The Unknown turned in my direction, moving one hand in a slashing line from up to down. Both his counsel obeyed the dismissal.
The Unknown took off his ebony gloves. As he moved to set them aside, I saw that he wore a second set of gloves underneath; only this pair was of a rubbery material instead of cloth, and had sections of metal grafted onto the back of the hand and finger joints. He extended a short length of wire from the metal backing over his right hand. A sound akin to waves breaking on the seashore came from the extension, followed by neutral voice speaking flatly in English.
"Contact made. Please state passcode." The Unknown removed his one-way kuroko mask.
If it were possible for my blood to run any colder, it did.
Behind the mask was a monstrous visage of grey metal. A slotted red grate fitted over the mouth. Two lengths of corrugated tubing wound around the back of his head, touching either cheek. Instead of eyes, the vaguely manlike construct sported soulless, oblong openings filled with darkness. I'd seen a head like that once before - atop the yellow abomination in Pyre's laboratory.
Predisposition to kill. The voice from the slotted grate carried an alien, vibrating modulation, but its general tone stirred my memory.
"Level one passcode accepted. Please state designation and message."
Designation: Unit LK-9T9. Message: internal discontent over stage one of Operation: Mass Reprogram noted. This unit recommends accelerating the timetable.
"Designation and message recorded. End contact." The Unknown compressed the wire back inside his glove. That was when I remembered to whom his voice belonged:
Sektor.
It would have been an act of mercy to kill him when I had the chance.
Choose.
"No. Nothing I could do to him would be worse than what he has done to himself." The pool's image dissolved into a tangled blend of hypnotic colors.
This could continue without end. I'd earned the right to leave Limbo, yet there was nowhere I wanted to go. The worlds shown in the pool no longer had any hold upon me. Whatever ties there once had been died with my beautiful ice dragon. All that remained was bottomless grief.
I was wrong. There are worse things than to have one's heart frozen stiff and still.
"Show me..." I had to stop and cough for a moment. "Show me a place where I can find peace."
The pool obliged. Its colors faded, yielding to a serene grey haze. Nothing intruded upon the misty expanse. Its quiescence was soothing to behold. I looked at the calm grey domain, basking in the reflection of its tranquility. This was a land without joy, but also without sorrow.
"Yes. There," I aspirated, no longer able to voice the words. "I shall go there."
It is the coming of winter for me. This tome of Ice is your legacy, little brother. The Power I applied to its pages will now transcribe all that has happened, so that you know the truth; and it will record all the mistakes I have made, so that you do not repeat them.
Damn you.
To use your own words, you didn't have the right! Why didn't you come back when you had the chance? I've read these last paragraphs over and over, trying to understand, and I don't. I never will. We've had our differences, I know, but that is the poorest, rottenest justification I have ever - why didn't you come back?
Didn't you realize? I've found a cure for the affliction that plagues Lin Kuei with the Talent! Smoke agreed to subject himself to my tests. Through work, systematic elimination, and a miraculous streak of luck, I tracked the cause of his ailment to a defective gene common to Lin Kuei bloodlines. Most Lin Kuei with the Power come from eight ancestral families, all of which can be traced to a single province. The gene only creates a finite amount of antigen proteins essential to maintaining the metabolic balance between organic and hypergeometic bodily functions. Eventual deficiency of these antigens has disastrous consequences, but their role can be supplanted by-
-oh, even if you can hear this, you'd just shake your head and tune it out, like you always did. What's important is that the treatment worked on Smoke. I couldn't stop him from seeking out Shao Kahn's Tournament before he'd fully recovered, but the preternatural decay in his lungs stopped, even repaired itself to some degree. I would have tested the remedy on more clan members if I'd had the opportunity. I've treated myself as well. Unless my research is seriously mistaken, the Power's final curse will never fall upon me.
More has happened since then. Much more. I escaped from Shao Kahn's Tournament, but he has since found a way to reach our world and wreak unspeakable havoc. The Kahn has sent his Outworld legions to destroy what few mortals whose souls he cannot dominate, including me. The Lin Kuei clan as you know it is no more. Most of its members have been willingly or unwillingly turned into cyborg slaves, thanks to Sektor and his alliance with Ultratech. Smoke and I were ignorant of their decline when we returned to warn them. I barely got away with this book and my life. Smoke was not so lucky. I'm on my own.
The Lin Kuei have sent their automated killers after me. Sektor leads the hunt, no longer constrained to hide his visage now that the clan has fallen. To this day, he burns with rage over the deaths of his brother and grandfather. He never dared to act openly when you were alive, but with you out of the way he intends to have revenge on me. Everyone thinks you are dead. I refuse to believe it. Brother, wherever you are, please come back! The world needs you. I need you.
Come back!
end The Coming of Winter