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“A triumph is no triumph when you lose everything to achieve it,” Sub-Zero observes, arms crossed over his chest, standing in the doorway of the Lin Kuei temple. Raiden stands a little further back, the cold now affecting his body as it has never before done. He is dressed in concealing furs, but has not abandoned his signature hat, having become very fond of it over the millennia of his life. Dark eyes watch the Lin Kuei Grandmaster carefully, gauging the depths of his sorrow and anger.
“No,” Raiden agrees, “it certainly does not feel that way… But Lord Liu Kang—”
Sub-Zero scoffs. “The boy is a lord now. Hm.” He has respect for Liu Kang as a competent martial artist, but he is younger even than some of the remaining Lin Kuei.
“He has taken my place in the pantheon, yes,” responds Raiden with an edge of firmness in his voice that Kuai Liang will doubtless detect. Despite his lack of godly title, the Lin Kuei’s leader still respects Raiden, if for no other reason than his long experience. Sub-Zero turns, then, his back now facing the remaining students of his temple who train diligently in the howling winds of the icy mountains.
“All due respect, Lord Raiden, but what pantheon is left? Is Shinnok not a speechless head in the Netherrealm… and what of your brother, Lord Fujin?”
“He, too, remains, despite Shang Tsung’s attempt on his life and mine,” says Raiden, more than a little testily. That Shang Tsung had attacked them both had come as no surprise; they were, at the time, the “big guns” as Johnny Cage might have said, the heavy hitters, the GODS. That it had almost been successful is also no surprise; as long as Raiden has known Shang Tsung, the man has been wily as a serpent.
He also understands Sub-Zero’s hesitance. Fujin is a good man, but he is—he acts like—a man , not a god. It has been his lot in life, after all, since they had fought and he had left the Sky Temple so long ago. Raiden does not regret his attempts to keep Fujin there, but he does regret his harsh words and has since made up with Fujin. “Lord Liu Kang has designs on that front, but for now, he is borrowing my services and time as his… emissary. And, Grandmaster Kuai Liang, remember, I am no longer a god. I am just Raiden.”
Once more, Sub-Zero grunts and nods. “Forgive me, Raiden, but it is… difficult, after all this time…”
“And it will remain difficult,” observes Raiden. After a moment, he adds: “I am… grieved at your loss.”
“Are you?” Now it is Sub-Zero’s turn to be sharp. He knows Raiden cares and has always cared for the affairs of Earthrealm, not least of all those of his friends. He had known of the burgeoning kinship between the two assassins known as Scorpion and Sub-Zero, was aware of their affection toward each other… But perhaps he had not been aware of Sub-Zero’s designs on that front. Sub-Zero knows he’s been cruel to say these things, but his cold heart aches with the loss. He appreciates, at the very least, that the former deity has respected him enough to say “your” instead of “our”.
“I am,” comes the response, even and gentle, not the least perturbed, not by this. Raiden understands the anger and remorse, the feeling of having something stripped away, leaving a hole where once it had filled the spirit more than it should have been able to do. There is emptiness and then there is whatever one might call this—a void, perhaps.
“It doesn’t matter,” amends the Grandmaster bitterly. “The Shirai-Ryu still have their Grandmaster… And we are still guardians of this realm.”
“They have theirs,” Raiden ventures, approaching, “but you do not have yours.”
Once more, the Grandmaster grunts and declines comment. There is something stirring behind his eyes and a tightness in his throat that he does not appreciate. It comes unbidden and will not leave until he can drive thoughts of Hanzo Hasashi from his head. As if, he thinks, I could ever do that.
“You have a chance,” Raiden continues, “to show this past version of Grandmaster Hasashi a path to forgiveness and serenity—would it not be better to offer that than to withdraw.”
“The sight of him—!” Sub-Zero cuts himself off, his fists tight and covered in a layer of ice. The frost has begun to creep up his arms. He realizes what he’s done and his broad shoulders sag helplessly, the hoarfrost upon his flesh receding. “Forgive me, Lor—Raiden. I speak out of turn.”
“In your own home? I should think not.” Raiden’s smile is soft, benevolent. Without the glow of divinity in his eyes, he seems more fatherly than ever he had done before. “Speak your mind and let it be at peace.”
“The sight of him haunts me. I… love him—not just his other self… the one I lost—because it is him, or it… might be… in twenty five years. I… cannot wait. I do not… it will kill me to wait and hope… and if I do have designs upon him, what of it? This world is his but not his. What if he—Raiden I cannot not have him. I need Hanzo Hasashi as I have never before needed anyone and just when I was… when I might’ve told him so, he…”
“Have you spoken of these things to the Grandmaster?” The question feels obvious, but Raiden must voice it. Sometimes, he will, as Liu Kang’s emissary, be a sounding board for residual frustration and grief. He is prepared for this, though the outpouring from Sub-Zero of all people does come as a slight surprise. Sub-Zero, meanwhile, is fishing about upon his person. He seems to be searching for something small which, when he finds, he clutches in one large hand and then holds it out to Raiden, turning his hand over, palm up, to display the object.
“How might I explain this ?”
It is a ring, a gold band with ornate etchings upon its shining surface.
“Had he survived the battle—had we both survived—I would have… I was going to—” Closing his fist around it, Sub-Zero stows the ring. “I cannot.”
“You might at least speak with him. He… has adjusted remarkably to this timeline.”
“Of course he has.” Sub-Zero’s voice is soft, full to the brim with emotion and affection. His hand remains upon his person where a hidden pocket holds the small symbol of an extremely unlikely bond. He seems smaller somehow, and the Lin Kuei Grandmaster is not a small man. Raiden does not pity him, however. He hates the circumstances that brought this about, that his own foolishness and trusting nature have thrust them into this completely unknown, untested future.
“Speak with Hanzo Hasashi, Kuai Liang, you will not regret doing so.” Without another word, Raiden disappears in a bolt of lightning, his emissarial “gift” from Lord Liu Kang, who has decided not to leave the former thunder god defenseless when traversing the realms. Sub-Zero acknowledges this, at least, as a sound choice, but still worries about the deification of so young a mortal. His mind drifts quickly from the untested fire god to his former compatriot of a similar aspect, though hell- rather than dragonfire had been Scorpion’s cloak of defense. Drifting through the Lin Kuei temple, he finds himself at the shrine he has constructed to honor the late Grandmaster. He kneels before it.
“Do I dishonor your memory, lover, if I find room in my heart for this… other you?” He does not know how to say it, or how to feel, but the sensation of comfort is undeniable. He always feels this warmth near the shrine and wonders if a spirit can occupy a space when his past self, body and soul, is also walking the roads of Earthrealm. “Do I hope too much that you will remember that which you have yet to know?”
~
In the Fire Gardens, Grandmaster Hanzo Hasashi presides over his students, white eyes intense with observation as they train, picking out weaknesses, pitting students against one another, and organizing lessons. Stepping back into this has not been simple, but he has more recent memories of his own training from which to pull. Some have challenged his right to step back into his future self’s position and all have been unceremoniously defeated. There are a few sharp eyes which rest on him when they think he cannot see, but the advantage of being a wraith is seeing everything, all the time. Nothing, he thinks, can surprise him anymore—thus, Thunder Emissary Raiden’s appearance gains a minute start from the assassin, barely a jerk of the head. He is wearing furs. Scorpion knows where he has been.
“ Sensei .” Scorpion’s voice is soft, polite. He bows deeply to the newly-arrived emissary of the fire god. Liu Kang, a human, has become a god and Raiden now serves him as emissary. This new future is strange, but the Fire Gardens are so lovely and the students so eager, now that he has made his position and goals clear, that Grandmaster Hasashi cannot find it in his heart to worry as his chilly counterpart does.
“Grandmaster Hasashi,” responds Raiden, bowing deeply as well.
“You are not dressed for the climate, Sensei ,” Scorpion observes, not unkindly. He signals for the exercises to cease and then, with a gesture, sends his students off elsewhere so that he might speak with Raiden privately. Having had little respect for the gods for so long, transitioning to thinking of the god of thunder by only his name has not been so difficult as it has been for some others. He will always be a teacher, however little this Scorpion has learned under him. This, Raiden seems to permit and then he nods.
“I was speaking with Grandmaster Kuai Liang, at the Lin Kuei temple, as you may have guessed,” says Raiden truthfully, seeing no need to disguise this in word or deed.
“I will take your cloak,” Scorpion offers. Raiden shakes his head.
“I will not be long,” he informs the assassin. “I am here only to ask after your health—Lord Liu Kang sent me.”
Scorpion nods. “I am well, all things considered. The students have accepted me, for the most part. The ones who have not…” He trails off with sharp amusement. His sense of humor has always, in Raiden’s experience, been this way, dry and cutting. His round face is cut with lines of mirth. This is a man who enjoys smiling, but has been forced to do otherwise for a long time. “As for my…” Once more, he leaves his sentence hanging and punctuates it with a gesture, moving his hand up near his eyes, the clearest indicator of his status, so to speak.
“Would that I could do anything for you,” Raiden laments, “but not even a god can reverse what Quan-Chi has done.”
“What I have done,” Scorpion corrects humbly. “Do not cushion me, Sensei . I know the source of my curse—it is the grief and rage within me. I saw my counterpart—I saw his eyes… He overcame it. So, too, shall I.”
“Do you know how?” Raiden is as eager as he has ever been to impart wisdom, if for no other reason than to truncate the awful pining which clearly emanates from Sub-Zero.
“I do not wish to know by any means other than mine,” declares Scorpion, gesturing that Raiden should follow him inside, at least, that they might speak in the confines of the complex. Raiden once more refuses, gesturing that he would rather walk the gardens portion of the Fire Gardens. “Forgive me, but this is… something I must do on my own and for myself.”
Raiden can respect that, even admire it. It does not solve his frustration, but that is not for him to decide. It had been he who had warned Liu Kang of this before the newly-minted fire god had sent him down to earthrealm to “make the rounds”. Raiden does not question this wisdom; it is wise to check in and with a familiar face. Besides, Liu Kang’s hands are full with the hourglass. Stepping away from it for a moment invites disaster—or it might. The truth is, they are both still learning, a fact that neither of them wants to express aloud, but something they must face (and have been facing) since their triumph over Shang Tsung.
“I understand,” Raiden supplies, now walking alongside Scorpion, slowing his stride to match the much shorter man’s. It is good, at the very least, to see the white-eyed assassin without hood or mask on, clearly comfortable in his environs. And how beautiful those environs are. Raiden cannot wait for Scorpion to look upon them with the eyes of a man, rather than a wraith. A dead, enraged thing cannot appreciate beauty like this, not properly, though he had gathered enough of it when he first appeared before Sub-Zero and Liu Kang to bring tidings of Kharon and of his own death. “How are you, Hanzo?”
Scorpion starts at the name coming from Raiden’s lips as if the former god of thunder has jolted him. With Sub-Zero, formality and respect had seemed the proper method, as a balm for the loss of his students and a reminder of the mighty title he has earned. This Scorpion needs reassurance that he is still human and worthy of warmth and kindness, though with no less respect. He, too, has earned the position, albeit a little earlier than his counterpart. But there is now more time for mastery and learning, Raiden reasons. If only they could see this… if only they would speak.
“As I said… I am well.” Scorpion’s tone is still respectful, but there is an edge of suspicion in it. He would not be a proper assassin without suspicion, but this is the old suspicion that drove him to serve Quan-Chi as payment for the chance to exact revenge for his family’s slaughter. This is not the suspicion of an old Grandmaster, but of a wronged survivor, seeking vengeance. “What… are you asking me?”
“Your heart,” Raiden states simply, gesturing to the man’s half-concealed chest.
“My heart beats for the Shirai-Ryu and for the safety of this realm, Sensei . It always will… Even though, for a time, it did not.”
Raiden nods. He knows the depth of Scorpion’s fierce loyalty. The man had died accomplishing a goal that would secure the safety of not only Earthrealm but all realms. Sometimes, Raiden hates that loyalty, but knows he could no more demand its disappearance of Hanzo Hasashi than he could himself. His core—mortal though he is, he is still not human and hasn’t a proper “heart”—also beats for Earthrealm and all the friends he has made therein, all the innocent strangers he does not know by name. This is not that man, but he might be, he could be, and that is what drives Raiden.
“You have kept your promise to yourself,” Raiden observes, “most admirably—the Fire Gardens prosper under your guidance.”
Scorpion inclines his head by way of thanks and then adds, “I am grateful to you for your kind words, but there is yet room for improvement.”
“There always will be,” the former deity reassures the Grandmaster. “May there always be room and time to improve upon ourselves.”
Grunting in response, Scorpion gestures to a path which leads over a bridge spanning a beautifully-maintained pond wherein fiery red-orange and black koi swim lazily. Several children, not a single one over ten, tend the fish, garbed in the clothing of Shirai-Ryu neophytes. They look up only once, out of sheer curiosity, as the two men pass over the bridge, but avert their eyes instantly as they identify the Grandmaster and the god of thunder. As soon as their task is finished, they disappear in shadows, not without sound, but nearly.
“They are impressive, your students,” says Raiden, pleased with the fine training. Scorpion nods. He, too, is pleased to see such things as smiling children—for they had been smiling upon the pair’s approach. They remind him so much of young Satoshi that it makes his heart ache violently. He misses them, Harumi and Satoshi, and he always will. Coming to terms with that, he has decided, is the first step to recovering his humanity. Raiden perceives this in him, but says nothing, recalling the Grandmaster’s insistence that his recovery and redemption be had by no hand but his own. Mortals are frustrating, but I now count myself among them, so I must respect their obstinacy, as it may very well be my own.
“I made a promise to a dying man as I held him in my arms on the shores of the Sea of Blood—to break such a promise is sacrilege… to break a promise to one’s older, wiser self? Foolish sacrilege.” Scorpion shakes his head, a few stray hairs which had come loose catch in the light breeze which has begun to pick up.
“And you were nearly killed trying to uphold that promise,” Raiden observes. Scorpion seems confused a moment and Raiden realizes that, very likely, no mortal could possibly recall the timeline which did not happen due to its erasure by his actions and those of Fire God Liu Kang, Nightwolf, Fujin, and the sorcerer, Shang Tsung. Raiden shakes his head. “I mean that your efforts—returning here… it was dangerous.”
“I had to do it. There was no other way. To give our world to Kronika and trust that her will would restore my family… To what end?” He sighs deeply and stops, turning toward and looking up at Raiden. “I was deceived in my grief, once again… Quan-Chi merely passed my chain into Kronika’s hands and I, a willing mutt, went gladly.”
“Grief is cruel that way,” observes Raiden, recalling how Hanzo Hasashi’s death had affected Kuai Liang most of all. Not only had they lost a valuable, powerful ally, but Sub-Zero had been torn asunder by the untimely death of his lover.
“I would not undo what I chose, making that promise. I only wish I…” What Scorpion remembers most vividly about his reappearance was the look Sub-Zero had given him when he, the “wrong” Scorpion, had appeared. It was a maelstrom of loathing, disappointment, and, most notably, heartbreak. “When I returned here, I think… I saw Sub-Zero’s face first and realized,” Scorpion considers, “that he had loved me—another me—and that I had, by my appearance, destroyed him.”
“Yet he stands tall, at the head of the Lin Kuei, fighting for a safer Earthrealm,” says Raiden, reaching out and laying a hand upon Scorpion’s shoulder. “As you stand before the Shirai-Ryu, with the same goal. Now… if you’ll excuse me, Grandmaster Hasashi, I must return to Lord Liu Kang and report your progress. He will be very pleased.” Without leaving room for protest, Raiden steps away from Scorpion and disappears in another flash of lightning. The former thunder god’s words regarding their shared goal ring in Scorpion’s head and he moves swiftly back to his chambers to draft a letter of invitation to Grandmaster Kuai Liang of the Lin Kuei.
“We must speak,” he says to himself, words exploding from the tip of his writing utensil.