CHAPTER III

NAMING THE GODS

“And this is our training garden,” said Sifu Jie Long, the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, as he led his visitor around the compound.  The Sifu wore the standard Lin Kuei uniform – save for the hood and mask – in red and black; his grey hair contrasting with his oversized muscles, built from years of teaching and utilizing a variety of forms of Wu Shu.  “Some of our more promising operatives are practicing as we speak.”  The Sifu motioned toward a dozen or so well-built, young men sparring and rehearsing combat routines in the lush, green courtyard.

The Sifu’s visitor was an unusually tall, albino man, his skin was white, and his eyes pink.  He wore a dark green, button-down shirt with a tight vest; it would’ve made him look very professional, if it weren’t for the sleeves of red tattoos that covered his arms, and his shaved head.  “Impressive,” commented the visitor.  “And which of them, specifically, will I be contracting?”

The Sifu motioned toward a small office adjacent to the training garden.  “I’ll gather them.  Please wait in here.”

The visitor bowed respectfully, and entered the office.  And, within a minute he was greeted again by the Sifu, in addition to three Lin Kuei operatives, each wearing the Lin Kuei uniform, with the hood and mask pulled off.

“I’ll ask that you speak in English for the benefit of our guest,” began the Sifu as he motioned for his agents to take a seat on a long couch, and for his visitor to do so on a nearby chair.  The Sifu sat behind the wooden desk.  “Let me introduce my students, the agents you will be contracting.”

He motioned for the first of the three men to stand up.  His outfit was yellow, with green trim; on his right arm was a metallic brace.  He appeared somewhat out of place, being black amongst a group of predominantly Chinese individuals.  “This is Oteng Nuru,” said the Sifu.  “We rescued him from Botswana as a child, and he has risen to become one of our most promising and exemplary agents.”

Oteng bowed to the guest and to his Sifu before sitting down.  He was an extremely grateful member of the Lin Kuei, always looking to repay the organization for rescuing him.  Little did he know that “kidnapping” might have been a more appropriate term.

The Sifu motioned for the second man to stand.  He wore a red uniform, trimmed with bright blue.  He absently stroked his beard.  “THis is Chan Long,” said the Sifu.  “He just returned from Japan a few days ago, with another guest of ours.”  Chan had, possibly taken too much credit for Sub-Zero’s capturing of Dr. Gishi.  “In addition to being one of our best agents, he is also my son.  So, you understand just how much I am offering you.”

Finally the third man stood up.  “And this is Bi-Han Leng—”

“—Also known as ‘Sub-Zero,’” interjected the visitor.  “Am I right?”

The Sifu nodded.

The visitor stuck out his hand to shake Sub-Zero’s.  “It is an honor.”  HIs grip was strong.  “I was very curious to meet the man that your Grandmaster has such respect for.”  He sat back down.  “He actually refused to let my men kill the Hasashis, knowing you would prefer that responsibility.”

“Your men?” asked Chan, now wondering who this man could be that he and his men could, in a single night, take out hundreds of Shirai Ryu agents.

“Ah.  Perhaps it is time I properly introduce myself, then.”  THe visitor stood back up.  “My name is Quan Chi.  I apologize that my Mandarin Chinese is not up to par; I spent the last few years in Indonesia, and before that, all over the word.  This is actually my first time in China, though.  And I am—” he looked toward the Sifu for a moment, thinking.  “I suppose ‘Sifu’ would be an appropriate term.  I am the Sifu of the Brotherhood of the Shadow.”

“I have never heard of them,” spoke Oteng.  His statement was met by a glare from Quan Chi.

“We’d like to keep it that way.”  Quan Chi was bothered by the interruption.  “We are a very secretive sect.  We do not trade in government documents, like the Lin Kuei.  We specialize in securing artifacts: old and valuable things.

“And I need you three for a very precise and exacting mission.”  Quan Chi’s already deep voice deepened, emphasizing his seriousness.  “There is an amulet hidden in an abandoned temple in the Himalayas.  And it is imperative that the Brotherhood of the Shadow gain possession of it.”

Sub-Zero raised his hand, hoping to be a little more respectful that Oteng had been.  “Excuse me, sir.  But why do you need our help?”

“The temple itself has certain magical protections on it,” said Quan Chi, in all seriousness.

Oteng laughed.  “Magical?”

Quan Chi was offended.  “It is fine with me if you don’t believe in the other world, but my Brotherhood of the Shadow do!  And I wouldn't ask them to sacrifice that belief, even if it would mean gaining possession of the Amulet of Shinnok.”  Quan Chi gave Oteng an angered stare.  “And I would show more respect.  My men were powerful enough to take out the entirety of the Shirai Ryu in a single night.  Fear of an ancient temple is a fair trade-off for that skill.”

“And more than fair payment for an archaeological expedition,” interjected the Sifu with confidence.

“Any questions?” Quan Chi crossed his arms.

Chan raised his hand.  “What is the Amulet of Shinnok?”

Quan Chi sat down.  “Well, according to the legend…” he took a breath.  “Back when the universe was new, the young gods formed their hierarchy.  And, at the top of this hierarchy, lording over the other deities, were the Elder God – gods whose power was so massive that it makes that of another god appear like an ant.  But one of these Elder Gods, Shinnok, grew jealous.

“Shinnok wanted to take all of the universe for himself.  And, when he started moving toward this goal, the other gods – both the Elder Gods, and the rest – retaliated.

“In an attempt to win his battle against the rest of the pantheon, Shinnok killed one hundred of his heavenly brethren, and trapped their souls in an amulet: a medallion of immense power.  With the power of all these gods trapped inside the amulet, Shinnok was all but unstoppable.

“But, the Elder Gods would not tolerate the murder of a deity, and, combined all their might to stop the renegade Shinnok.  Shinnok was cast into the Netherrealm – Hell.  And the gods were made impossible to kill, so no other deity could murder a god again.  Shinnok’s amulet, however, could not be destroyed, it was too powerful, so it was hidden away.  Earth’d god of lightning was given the authority to protect it.  He hid it deep within a temple – the abandoned temple in the Himalayas of Nepal – guarded by still more gods to ensure it never fell back into the wrong hands.”  Quan Chi leaned back in his chair.

“The temple we will be exploring,” Chan confirmed.

Quan Chi nodded.  “The amulet is said to hold within it the power of the hundred gods killed by Shinnok: enough power to destroy a god, and do much, much more.”

“And you believe this?” asked Oteng.  “I’ve studied many religions, and I’ve never heard this legend.”

“Whether you believe the legend or not, I do believe the amulet is real.”  Quan Chi had contempt for Oteng in his voice.

After an extended silence, the Sifu stood up.  “So then,” he cleared his throat.  “You three should prepare.  Your flight leaves tonight.”

Chan, Oteng, Bi-Han, and Quan Chi boarded their plane that evening, shortly after the sun set.  The four of them at in the coach section of the plane – the Lin Kuei may have been wealthy, but they were also frugal.

The plane ride was, for the most part, rather quiet.  Very few people were on the flight – and no in-flight movie played.  At around 1 AM, their flight landed, and, within an hour, the four had checked into their rather inexpensive hotel rooms: Oteng and Chan’s rooms were adjoined by a deck, as were Bi-Han’s and Quan Chi’s.

It was around 2:00AM, and Bi-Han was having trouble sleeping.  He walked outside onto the deck, sat down on a cheap chair and stared at the stars.  He heard murmuring from the adjacent deck, and looked to see Chan and Oteng laughing, and talking amongst themselves.  Bi-Han sighed and relaxed, and opened a bottle of beer.

Quan Chi exited his own room and sat down on the chair on the opposite side of the deck as Bi-Han’s.  “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“How far away is the temple?” asked Bi-Han, readjusting himself to look at his temporary-employer.

“A two hour-drive.”  Quan Chi spoke matter-of-factly.

Bi-Han heard some feet shuffling, as Chan and Oteng stood up.  Quan Chi cocked his head and watched, confused, as the two entered the same hotel room.

“Where are they going?” asked Quan Chi.

Bi-Han chuckled.  “I would be best not to mention that to the Sifu,” said Bi-Han, aware of what Chan and Oteng were doing.  “He would disown Chan if he knew.”

Quan Chi nodded, understanding.

“You said you had been all over the world.”  Bi-Han took a swig of beer.  “Where have you been?’

Quan Chi thought.  “Literally all over.  Every continent, and over sixty nations in the past decade.  I was in Egypt and Hawaii most recently, before Indonesia.  But I absolutely loved West Africa and part of the Caribbean: especially Haiti.”

“Why Haiti?”

“Well, in terms of artifacts, they were a little dry – but the Brotherhood of the Shadow collected their share.  But it was the religion there that I really loved.”  Quan Chi smiled.

“What religion is that?”  Be hand cracked his knuckles.  “Oteng would know – he loves religion.”

“Oteng bothers me,” said Quan Chi.  “He need to learn respect.”  He sighed, regaining composure.  “Vodou is one of the religions that’s common in Haiti.  In many parts of the world, a faith related to Vodou is more commonly called ‘Voodoo.’”

“Voodoo?  Like with voodoo dolls and zombies?”

Quan Chi laughed.  “No, and sort of.  Voodoo dolls are myths – they are based on a West African tradition that is so completely different than voodoo dolls, that it isn’t even worth mentioning.  Zombis – spelled differently – however, are very real.”

Bi-Han leaned forward, interested.

“In Vodou, there are two different types of priests: the ‘good’ priests, that lead the community, called Houngans and Mambos; and the ‘dark’ priests, the bokors.  Some bokors are members of their respective communities: others are ostracized for their dark practices.  Amongst the magic that they are reportedly able to control is the ability to bring someone back to life.

“A bokor will create what’s called a ‘zombi powder,’ mixing herbs and chemicals; each of the bokors I met had their own, unique recipe, actually.  When a bokor poisons a man with the zombi powder, the man will fade to death, and the bokor will collect his soul.  After the victim has been buried, the bokor will dig him up, and reinsert the soul back into his body: turning him into his mindless, zombi slave.”

“Is it a true legend?” asked Bi-Han, taking another swig of beer.

Quan Chi reached into his pocket and removed a small, corked vial with a fine, purple powder within it.  “One of its primary ingredients is a chemical called tetrodotoxin, commonly found in pufferfish.  Normally it kills – but, in the just the right doses, it can paralyze a man so efficiently, and lower his heart and lung rate to such a level, that, for a few days, they are indistinguishable from the dead.”

Quan Chi left the vial on a small table on the deck as he walked back into his hotel room.  “Get some rest, Sub-Zero.  We have a long day tomorrow.”

Sub-Zero finished his beer and grabbed the vial before heading back into his hotel room.  He hoped he wouldn’t need the powder; but it could be useful.

It was a little past noon when Quan Chi, Bi-Han, Oteng, and Chan arrived at the temple after hiking along the remains of an old stone pathway.  They carried very few supplies: Quan Chi carried a dao, strapped to his back; Chan held a medium-length staff with spikes on either end; and Oteng held a lantern.  The temple was an old, ruined thing: carved from rock into the mountainside, overrun with ivy and leaves.  Designs had been etched by hand around its entrance – designs that Oteng, despite his proficiency in religions, could not recognize.

Chan smiled, glad they had finally arrived, and stepped toward the entrance, before being stopped by Quan Chi.  “Not yet, Chan.”

“Why not?” asked Oteng, expecting another lengthly legend from Quan Chi.

Quan Chi glared at Oteng.  “You should know.  You’ve studied religions.  How many religions out there believe that someone’s given name is sacred?”

“Too many to count,” replied Oteng.  “So?”

Quan Chi turned to Chan and Bi-Han.  “Many faiths believe that built into everyone’s name is a path to their soul.  A few Native American tribes, for instance, give their members multiple names; their true names kept secret.  Many strict Jewish sects don’t name their children until after specific religions ceremonies are performed, to ensure that demons cannot track down their soul through that name.”

Bi-Han nodded.

“This place is sacred,” continued Quan Chi.  “It is overflowing with otherworldly energies, and, if while inside this temple, any of the gods protecting it were to hear your real names spoken, your very souls could be jeopardized.”

“So then we shouldn’t say our names?” asked Oteng rolling his eyes.

“You will go by false names,” said Quan Chi, ignoring Oteng’s remark.  “Bi-Han, you already have a codename: ‘Sub-Zero,’”  He smiled, and laughed, “This will give me an opportunity to work on my Chinese.”

Quan Chi cleared his throat and walked toward Chan, “Because of your ability to make those around you suffer and die quickly and efficiently, you will be ‘Si ku tu,’” He paused, “We’ll trim that down to ‘Sektor.”

“Which means, ‘suffer sudden death,’” Chan smiled.  “I like it.”

Quan Chi walked toward Oteng.  “Because you are annoying and disrespectful, I will call you ‘Shi re ke si.’” Sektor and Sub-Zero burst out into laughter at this name.  “We’ll trim it down to ‘Cyrax,’ though.”

Oteng hung his head, “Shi re ke si,” meant “to provoke to death” in Chinese.

Bi-Han slapped his hand lightly on Oteng’s back, “You hear that, annoying one?”

“Laugh now,” replied the newly-christened Cyrax.  “But I’ll wear my new name with pride.”

“What about you?” asked Sub-Zero of Quan Chi.  “Don’t you need a codename?”

Quan Chi laughed.  “You assume that Quan Chi is my real name, and that I have a soul to put in danger.”

Sektor gulped at that ominous remark.

The inside of the temple was cold and cavernous.  It felt – and looked – more like a cave then a place of worship.  The only indication that it was a holy place were the stone statues carved into the walls, and the candles at their feet.

A man knelt at one of the statues, lighting a candle.  When the feet of Quan Chi, Sektor, Cyrax, and Sub-Zero hit the floor of the main room, the man turned his head.  He was a dark-skinned man, with white, painted tiger-stripes lining his body.  “Are you here to worship?” he asked the in Nepali.

“Yes,” Quan Chi lied, also in Nepali.  “May we do so privately.”

The man didn’t believe Quan Chi, but nodded, nonetheless.  He exited the temple.

Quan Chi turned.  “In this temple we will face the four elements.”

“The four elements?” asked Sektor, seeking clarification.

“The gods of the four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,” responded Quan Chi.

“Which gods?” asked Cyrax, now purposefully annoying Quan Chi.  “There are thousands of polytheistic faiths out there, and ninety percent of all of them have gods representing those elements.  Which ones are we fighting?” Cyrax didn’t actually believe they would meet gods there, but he played along.

“They are all the same deities.”  Quan Chi’s answer was met with confusion.  “The Greek Zeus, the Roman Jupiter, the Norse Thor, and the Japanese Raiden – for instance – are all the same God of Lightning.  The being just takes on different forms to fit its preference.  In this temple, the gods of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water will appear however they wish.”

Sub-Zero shrugged.  “Alright.  Let’s get to it then.”

Quan Chi nodded and led the group into passed a beaded doorway and into another room.  It was empty, and dark.

Cyrax sighed and opened the battery-operated lantern, flicking it on, lighting the room.  Once light flooded the area an audible hiss echoed.  “Looks like we have a snake, Sektor.”  Cyrax was still getting used to his comrades new name.

Quan Chi laughed and pointed to an alcove in the back of the room.  Sitting on the floor, cross-legged, was the apparent silhouette of a man; it was from him that the hissing emanated.

“Are you a god,” Cyrax spoke, his voice teeming with sarcasm.

The man stood up, and walked a few inches forward, until he was bathed in the light of Cyrax’s lantern.  The man was very old – appearing to be at least seventy – and donned a traditional Egyptian loincloth and a headdress.  In one hand, he held a curved, sickle-sword known as a khopesh.  The hissing grew louder, as the man walked forward, and it became apparent that, circling the man’s neck, and sharing his headdress, was a nest of snakes, asps specifically. 

“What the fuck!?” screamed out Cyrax in Chinese.

Sektor stepped forward.  “I’ll take this god – so you three don’t tire out.”  He rushed forward, his medium-staff in hand.

He attempted to strike the god before him.  The being’s khopesh, however, blocked Sektor’s staff easily.  The with each strike, the god’s several snakes leapt forward hissing and snapping at the Lin Kuei operative.

“So, Cyrax, what god is this?” asked Sub-Zero, testing his comrade.

“Geb: the Egyptian god of the Earth,” Cyrax said as if it were obvious.

Quan Chi smiled.

Sektor continued his fight, aiming for the Geb’s serpents with his spiked staff.    Geb, however, being a god, was not easily overcome, and dodged each and every strike from Sektor.

The two fought closely for a while, with neither warrior gaining the upper hand.  Until Geb stomped his foot roughly on the ground, causing the earth to shake slightly.  Setkor, surprisingly was able to keep his balance – but soon discovered he could not move his feet.  Looking down he saw that the earth and rocks and grown around his ankles holding him in place.

“I offer you this chance,” came a heavy and hollow voice.  Geb turned toward Quan Chi, Cyrax, and Sub-Zero.  “Leave now, and I won’t kill you all.”  The voice was solemn and serious.

Quan Chi smiled, and waved his hand slightly – something that, although overlooked by Cyrax, did not go unnoticed by Sub-Zero.  And, after Quan Chi waved his hand, Sektor’s legs were freed from the rocks.

Geb turned around – as if he subconsciously knew that Quan Chi had freed Sektor.  With a hiss he lunged at the Lin Kuei operative, his khopesh raised high.  The earth from beneath Sektor reached out from the ground once more, attempting to wrap itself around his legs again.  But Sektor hopped up, dodging the flowing stones beneath him.

Sektor, jumped toward Geb, striking with his staff.  He missed, and Geb rose the earth from the ground again.  But Sektor continually jumped; now hopping from place-to-place, not staying on the ground long enough to remain stuck.  Each time he landed, he jabbed his staff forward toward the Earth God.

Finally, after at least five minutes of this dance, Sektor struck the deity in the stomach, causing Geb to buckle over in pain.  Once he was on the floor, Sektor, with a maniacal laugh, stomped on the one of the snake protruding from the god’s headdress.  An otherworldly hiss and screech emanated from the walls of the temple, and Sektor picked his foot up, and stomped again on one of the deities other serpents.  One-by-one he crushed the heads of all the snakes that poked out from Geb’s neck.  Eventually, he stepped back, and, with one powerful strike, he jabbed his staff through the god’s skull.

Sektor spit on the earth and laughed before bending over, grabbing his ankles, and trying to catch his breath, dripping with sweat.  “I just killed a god!”  He wiped his brow and stood back up.  “So, who’s fighting the next one?”

Quan Chi smiled, proudly.  “Good job.  But he’s not dead.”

“What?” exclaimed Sektor, looked down at the blood pooling at his feet.  “I stabbed him through the skull!”

“You misunderstand,” responded Quan Chi.  “He’s dead…sort of.  But, Geb will be back.  Killing the physical form of a god is only temporary.  Within a day – or a week at the most – Geb will be alive and well again.”

“Well that’s anticlimactic,” said Sub-Zero, with a bored shrug.

Cyrax ran toward Sektor and helped him forward, “you did wonderfully.”  He looked into Sektor’s eyes, but restrained himself from doing anything more in mixed company.

Sektor stared back for a moment, but stopped before he was too tempted to show any outward affection.

Sub-Zero and Quan Chi walked into the next room, through another beaded doorway, while Cyrax and Sektor pulled themselves together.  And soon, the four of them had made it into the next corridor.

Along the stone wall of this room were a series of small holes, each leaking water like a fountain.  The floor, which was a good foot or two deeper than the previous room, was filled, ankle-high with the water.

“So I take it we’ll be facing the Water God now?” asked Sub-Zero rhetorically.

Quan Chi only nodded.  “Cyrax, this is your fight.”

Cyrax stepped into the middle of the room.  “So, where is this all-powerful water being?”

The water in the room started to recede, pulling back into a very deep puddle right next to where Cyrax stood.  Cyrax turned to face this odd, watery formation, as it slowly started to form into the shape of a man.  “Here we go!” said Cyrax excitedly.

The water was soon gone, now in its entirety, it was a man.  A tall, mixed-race man, wearing what looked like a 19^th-century naval uniform, holding a mameluke sword in his right hand - standard issue in many navies.

“So, which god is this?” asked Sub-Zero of Quan Chi.  Sektor listened intently.

“One of my favorites: Agwé, the Loa of the Sea in Vodou.”  Quan Chi’s smile grew: he was excited about this fight, more so than the last.

Agwé, speaking in a thick Haitian accent, spoke calmly, “De amulet is being protected for a reason!  It should stay here for eternity!”

Cyrax nodded, “Yeah, Geb said the same thing.”  He chuckled, and pressed a button on his metallic wrist guard, out of which a spinning blade emerged: a buzz saw coming out of Cyrax’s arm.

“Today you will meet Davy Jones,” said Agwé.  He swung his sword; an attack that Cyrax promptly blocked with his buzz saw.

As Agwé pushed against Cyrax’s wrist guard with the sword, Cyrax kicked forward at the Water God’s leg.  However, upon contact, he discovered that his foot splashed right through the deity’s leg.  In fact, within a second, Agwé’s entire body temporarily became water – Cyrax falling through him and onto the floor.

As Agwé rematerialized, he stood over the Lin Kuei operative, laughing.  “You cannot destroy de sea!”

“Don’t be so sure.  My friend already destroyed the earth, so…”  Cyrax kicked again at the god’s legs.  Again, Agwé dematerialized into a puddle.

The puddle that was the god moved around the floor, Cyrax frantically trying to jump on top of it, in some vain attempt to hurt the being.  Agwé restructured himself on the floor, grabbing Cyrax’s legs as he once again became flesh.  He tossed Cyrax onto the ground.  With a laugh.

Cyrax stood back up as quickly as he could, swinging his buzz saw at Agwé.  Agwé blocked the attack with his sword, causing sparks to fly as the two metal weapons clashed.  The sparks, however, ignited an idea in Cyrax’s mind.  He swung his arm again, this time aiming not for Agwé, but for his sword; and he struck, not with his buzz saw, but with the metallic wrist guard.  More sparks flew when they clashed.  Cyrax struck again.  More sparks.

One final time, Cyrax swung his arm forward; and with that attack the outer-shell of his wrist guard cracked.  One of its metal plates fell to the ground, the circuitry inside the buzz saw was exposed, electricity crackling within it.

With a smile, Cyrax lunged at the god before him.  Agwé, once again, melted to a puddle.  Cyrax, expecting this, instead of waiting for the god to rematerialize, Cyrax, knelt down and stuck his wrist guard in the moving puddle.  Waves of electricity ran through the water on the floor.  The puddle bubbled then just stopped.

Cyrax stood up.  “So – who’s next: Air, or Fire?”  He was out of breath.

Sektor ran over to Cyrax, and put his arm around him.  “You’re the smartest man I know.”

Sub-Zero smiled at the affection that Sektor showed Cyrax, knowing that it was usually the other way around.

Quan Chi smiled, and began leading Sub-Zero into the next room, through another beaded doorway.  Before leaving, though, Sub-Zero dipped his hand into the pool of water that filled the floor once again.  He concentrated, and pulled out a willow leaf saber, made of solid ice.

Once Sub-Zero and Quan Chi had entered that next chamber, and making sure they couldn’t see, Sektor gave Cyrax a brief kiss on the cheek.  And the two followed Sub-Zero and Quan Chi into the next room.

This chamber of the temple was filled with candles.  Noticing the candles, Sub-Zero commented, “so, I assume then, that one of us will be fighting the Fire God?”

Quan Chi nodded.  “You will be fighting this one, Sub-Zero.  Forgive me, but I’ve always wanted to see a battle between fire and ice.”  Quan Chi laughed.

“Right…” said Sub-Zero, not entirely thrilled.  He stepped into the center of the room, waiting.  “All right, where is he?”

The flames from the candles all grew.  They fire from them moving in an otherworldly fashion, removing themselves from their wicks and joining in the center of the room.  They spun around into a tornado of flame until they formed into a human shape.

Sub-Zero smiled, “So you’re the Fire God?”

The flame subsided, leaving a woman with long black hair and a grass skirt standing where the fire was.  “The Fire Goddess, actually.”  In each of her hands she held a wide, flat, wooden club with what looked like shark’s teeth lining its edges.  A knife that Sub-Zero would later discover was a traditional polynesian weapon called the leiomano.

“So, Cyrax,” said Quan Chi with a smile.  “I’m sure you know which god this is?”

Cyrax smiled, “Pele: the Hawaiian goddess of the volcano.”

Pele, not one for words, breathed deeply, then, in a strong, overhand motion, swung the leiomano in her right hand.  She let out a grunt as Sub-Zero ducked and rolled, evading the weapon.  It did, however, strike his leg.  The goddess swung her weapon again, but, from a further distance, and it did not come close to striking Sub-Zero.

Stepping closer, Pele swung her leiomano again.  Sub-Zero blocked with his ice sword, which shattered on contact; shards of ice littering the ground – and quickly melting.

Sub-Zero could feel himself sweating profusely.  Sub-Zero hated the heat; his powers made him, naturally, gravitate toward the cold.  And fighting a being of fire made standing the temperature even more difficult.

Sub-Zero swung his leg forward, as Pele readied herself for another strike.  Having been kicked square in the stomach, the goddess stumbled backwards.

Sub-Zero ran forward, and grabbed the Fire Goddess sharply around the neck, ready to freeze her throat.  However, he found his hand burning upon contact with Pele’s neck.

Pele stood up, laughing.  “What?  Can Shinnok’s protégé not stand the heat?”

Sub-Zero spit.  “Shinnok is myth and nothing more.”

“And I’m a fairy princess,” Pele joked.  She took a deep breath and started swinging her head around violently.  Her hair whipping about in a circle.

Sub-Zero stood confused for a moment, until embers and bits of lava started spitting their way out from her strands of hair.  The heat in the room was now unbearable.

As a rather large glob of glowing lava flung its way toward Cyrax, Sektor screamed.  “Look out!”  He jumped knocking Cyrax onto the ground, away from the flame, which promptly melted a small part of the rock of the temple wall, as it landed.

Quan Chi waved his hand quickly, as more molten droplets made their way toward Cyrax, Sektor and himself.  When he waved his hand, the lava stopped short of hitting the three of them, as if, somehow, Quan Chi had erected an invisible force field.

Cyrax, looking up at the lava which had fallen to the ground in front of him, raised an eyebrow.  “What the…?”

Sub-Zero, however, looked over as Quan Chi waved his hand, and saw – just barely perceptible – a series of green, glowing skulls, blocking the path of the embers.  However, as quickly as those skulls had appeared, they disappeared.  And Sub-Zero told himself that he must have been seeing things.

Shaking his head, and trying to get back into the fight, Sub-Zero thought for a moment.  He remembered an old trick his father had showed him once – his father who, like Sub-Zero, could control ice – a trick where, from a distance, his father could throw the cold.  Concentrating as hard as he could; sweat pouring out of him like a faucet, Sub-Zero, turned his hands into fists and envisioned a stream of cold air emanating from his hands.  He pushed his hands forward aiming at Pele’s legs, and, to his surprise, the goddess, suddenly, found her right foot frozen to the ground.

Pele stopped swinging her head, and tried moving her leg.  She looked over at Sub-Zero with a smile.  “Good trick – you truly are a child of Shinnok.”  The ice encasing her ankle melted.

“I am no child of Shinnok!” screamed Sub-Zero as he ran toward the goddess, raising his hand, and shooting a small icicle from it like a bullet at Pele.

Pele blocked the icicle with her leiomano and ran toward the Lin Kuei operative, lava dripping from her fingers like the tentacles from an octopus.  She raise her hand, ready to strike with the fiery tendrils of her fingers when Sub-Zero lunged his hands forward, again, this time, aiming not for Pele’s legs, but for her chest.

He concentrated, and, to the disbelief of not only himself, but Cyrax, Sektor, and Quan Chi, as well, a thin sheet of ice covered the goddess from head to toe.

Knowing that it would only be moments before this ice melted, Sub-Zero aimed and attempted to freeze Pele again, covering her with another layer of ice.  And he repeated his concentration again, and again, and soon enough, Pele was frozen in a block of ice a few inches thick.

Sub-Zero bent over, gripping his knees, and trying to regain his composure.  Suddenly, though, he heard a sizzle, and saw steam rising from the frozen goddess before him.  He stood up, read to fight her when she emerged from her icy shell.  However, once all the ice melted, the sizzling continued.  As if the fire within Pele was being extinguished by the water melting around her.

Pele raised her hand, but, to her shock, she found no molten lava emerging from her palm.  Saddened, she buckled over and fell to her knees on the floor.  “Don’t take the amulet,” she spoke solemnly.  “No good can come from it.”

Sub-Zero, though, was not content to listen to Fire Goddess.  He walked over to her, creating an icicle in his hand, and stabbing her in the throat.

Quan Chi walked toward the victorious Sub-Zero and patted him on the back.  “I’ll take the Wind God.”

Sub-Zero nodded, and, along with Sektor and Cyrax, he followed Quan Chi into the fourth chamber.

This room of the temple was surprisingly empty, save for a few holes – vents almost – leading out of the cave into daylight.  In fact, the four of them had traveled so deep into the temple that the vents held the only source of light.

Quan Chi stood in the center of the room.

“Fujin!  I challenge you!  Come out now!” Quan Chi yelled.

“Fujin?” Sektor asked of Cyrax, leaning over slightly.

“The Shinto Kami of the Wind,” Cyrax spoke matter-of-factly.

A loud howl was heard, and wind blew its way into the cavern, dust and dirt picking themselves up off the ground and swirling like a tornado in the room’s center.  The wind was becoming very powerful very quickly, so much so that Sub-Zero, Cyrax, and Sektor found themselves pinned against the way by its sheer force.  Quan Chi, however, acted as if this were normal, despite his clothing flapping in the strong gale, threatening to tear at the seams.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, an old man stepped forth from the twister of dust and leaves in the chamber’s center.  He was tall, wearing simple yellow and maroon clothes – just linen pants and a shirt.  And his hair was braided into a short ponytail.  In his right hand, raised above his head, he swung a three-sectioned staff around in a circle.

As he slowed the swinging of his weapon, so too did the wind die down.  “How many times must I stop you in your tracks before you quit, Quan Chi?”

Sektor and Cyrax seemed unfazed by this Wind God’s statement; but Sub-Zero was disconcerted.  He wondered if Quan Chi had attempted to capture the amulet before.  Was it more than just a valuable antique?  Not that it mattered to him: his mission was to recovery for the man, and not question the reason.  But, the ominous warning that Pele had given him made him question his loyalties for a brief second.

Quan Chi, quickly, and with a sharp clang, drew his dao from its holster on his back.  “I will retrieve what belongs to Lord Shinnok.”  He swung the sword down hard at the god, who blocked it effortlessly with his three-section staff, now folded.

“You would trust that madman with an item of such power?”  Fujin retreated a few steps and, at a blinding speed, unleashed his three-section staff and swung it briskly along the ground, aiming for Quan Chi’s ankles.

Quan Chi jumped upward, dodging the god’s attack.  “Lord Shinnok is enlightened – not a madman.”  He replied, without much enthusiasm, as if he were reading from a script.  He jumped up kicking, and barely grazing Fujin’s shoulder with his shoe as he landed.

Fujin, knocked back slightly, steadied himself.  “The last time I saw the God of What-is-Not, he could barely contain his own lunacy!  I can’t imagine how insane he must be now, after a millennia in the Netherrealm.”  He raised his hand, and sent forth a gust of air so strong it knocked Quan Chi off his feet.

“Pretty tough for an old guy,” commented Sektor to Sub-Zero.

Sub-Zero however did not respond.  He was not only extremely enthralled in the battle taking place before him, but also weighing the implications of every syllable that Quan Chi and Fujin spoke and trying to overcome the possibility of a moral dilemma.

Quan Chi and Fujin, though, quickly escalated their attacks, to the point of distracting Sub-Zero’s inner thoughts.  Their ranged fight moved closer, and the two started tossing fists at one another – most of which were blocked, they were, after all, very skilled martial artists.

The two seemed very evenly matched for sometime, until Fujin knocked Quan Chi to the floor with a swift sweep to the ankles timed with a strike to the forehead.  “I’m Raiden’s second-in-command for a reason, Quan Chi.  You can’t defeat me.”

Quan Chi stood up, slowly, his right hand raised, indicating surrender.  He bowed his head, respectfully, then lunged forward, brandishing his dao with force.

Fujin, expecting Quan Chi to do something like that blocked Quan Chi’s arm with his elbow. 

Quan Chi, dropped his weapon, causing Fujin to look at the ground for a brief second to see where it had fallen.  When he looked back up, Quan Chi was staring directly into Fujin’s eyes.  Fujin’s eyes opened wide, as did Quan Chi’s.

Sub-Zero thought for a moment at just how frightening the pink eyes of an albino could be to someone unfamiliar with the condition, coupled with the fact that Quan Chi was already an intimidating man.  He then noticed the odd fact that Fujin had no irises or pupils: just the whites of his eyes.  Fujin, seemed locked in the stare.

“Just breathe, God of Wind, just breathe.”  Quan Chi and Fujin’s breaths slowed and sped up, respectively, until they matched, and breathed in unison.  “Let your thoughts blow out of you like a cool, spring zephyr.  And be in my thoughts.  Flow into me.”

Fujin did seemingly nothing but stare.  He didn’t even blink.  Quan Chi stepped backward, his eyes still locked on Fujin’s.  Then, in one quick motion, Quan Chi picked his sword up from the ground, and thrust it forward into Fujin’s stomach.

Fujin awakened from whatever trance he was in almost instantaneously.  He didn’t scream, just fell to his knees.  Blood pouring out of his mouth, he tried to speak.  “I’ll have reformed by tomorrow, Quan Chi.”

Quan Chi nodded, knowing this.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Fujin turned his head toward Sub-Zero, Cyrax, and Sektor – who he hadn’t even acknowledged until this point.  And, letting out a final breath, he spoke the words, “you can escape through the lightning.”

Sektor shrugged at those words, and Cyrax thought they were little more than the ramblings of a dying man.  Sub-Zero, however, wondered if there was more a meaning behind them.

Quan Chi stood up straight, with a look of anticipation on his face.  “You three wait here – I need to grab the amulet by myself,” he spoke hastily.  He then walked quickly through the final beaded doorway and down a long corridor.

Cyrax, Sektor, and Sub-Zero sat down on the floor, just outside the path that Quan Chi had just taken.  Sub-Zero stared at Fujin’s corpse, deep in thought.

“So, Cyrax,” began Sektor, emphasizing his companions new, assumed name.  “Were those real gods or not?”

“I don’t believe in magic and fantasy, Sektor,” replied Cyrax, leaning back against the dirty, temple wall.

Sektor motioned to Sub-Zero, “then how do you explain Sub-Zero here?”

Cyrax shrugged.  “I don’t – but there is a logical explanation.”

Sektor turned to Sub-Zero, who had not yet taken his eyes off the body of the God of Wind.

Sub-Zero stood up, “I’m going to see what Quan Chi is doing.”

Sektor spoke up, “he told us to wait.”

Cyrax placed his hand on Sektor’s knee, indicating they should let Sub-Zero go.  And Sub-Zero did just that.

He followed the corridor that Quan Chi had taken down a winding road.  There were no forks in the path, so he knew he was going the same way that Quan Chi had just traversed.  When he reached the end of the path, there was a pedestal lit by a light that came almost out of nowhere.  Sub-Zero thought an amulet would’ve sat perfectly on that pedestal, which had nothing on it.  On the floor, Sub-Zero caught a fading green shimmer, that reminded him of those ghostly skulls he thought he saw Quan Chi summon.  Quan Chi, however, was nowhere to be found.

Thinking that maybe he, somehow, had missed an alternate path along the way, Sub-Zero turned around, only to be confronted by an old man in a coolie hat, with a staff in his hand.  Before Sub-Zero could react, the man struck him hard on the forehead with a thick thwack.  Sub-Zero heard what sounded like electricity crackling, then fell to the floor, unconscious.