Happiness is a Warm Gun Chapter 1, a kung fu panda fanfic

Spoilers! If you haven't watched the movie, of course… :D

Synopsis: Destiny and Fate play a cruel game of tag when Lord Shen is on the verge of death. Old habits die hard, as obsession and ambition make another stake in the former Lord's quest for power. Will the old familiar cycle take possession of his heart, or will he learn to see past it?

Notes: Hey, this is in response to the inspiration I got from watching Kung Fu Panda 2. I enjoyed the new antagonist and his depth, I hope to add on to it- expand, or just have fun with my ideas. I hope I'm staying in-characters as best as I can, I'm still trying to get a hang of them ;P, but I enjoy any and all reviews- critical critiques or any of that are welcomed, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing. : ) Enjoy!

"White, black and red," the owl hesitated, "It's ghostly, though - as if all the color has been evaporated Ting. Unnaturally so; are you sure it's not dead?"

They could pluck out the feathers, and add inks to the colors that seemed worn from the water, breathe life into feathers that could be used to sell and trade. Feng was thinking about that now, the usefulness he could find in the trash they picked through, from the things cities and villages had thrown out and deemed unworthy- one way or another.

"I'm quite certain," the blind mouse held one of her large ears against the cold feathered chest, damp and muddy all over. Her small and nimble hands rested there as well, detecting the shallow movement of breath creeping into the cavity underneath her. "Don't you hear it too, Feng?"

The owl's attention was elsewhere, his sharp and wild eyes coasting along the beach. There had also been remnants of wolf, wolf all over, and it reeked in its decay. He understood a battle must have taken place, but the sea doesn't care who she travels with- she will bring her passengers everywhere and to nowhere. "Hardly," his wings shifted uneasily,

"It will die today - soon perhaps… I'd say even peacefully." He cocked his head overtop to view the strange creature. Dying in dreams, he thought; that was far more merciful of the fates compared to what had happened to the drowned bodies on the shore. "Let's go," he murmured, approaching the boat they arrived in. Regardless the mouse continued her investigation, her lithe presence detecting misplaced ribs, and broken bones. She followed the ligaments on the edges of the creature's wing, where bone had also cracked and shifted, where the presence of swelling and bruising appeared. "Feng," she vocalized her distress, her concern, whereas Feng only felt mild interest in such things but otherwise cared very little for the dying. He was glaring at the boat instead of her.

"No matter how much you think you can do, Ting… it will die."

"How can you say that if we haven't even tried?"

"It's happened before, and fate will only prolong that suffering," he felt himself justified, they couldn't afford another mouth - especially now, when autumn was nearly here, and winter would storm through with a vengeance. Ships wouldn't make the journey to their island, unless they were crazy like the island folk to head out and back again for supplies. As much as the people thought of their self-sufficient nature, they remained powerless underneath the forces of nature. And for a moment he thought he'd won his piece, but as his wings began to handle the rope, the calm voice spoke- far congealed with determination.

"We will bring him," she was old, and stubborn too; but not as old as the ancients, or the elders of the island or elsewhere. Her wisdom not only came from her experience, but her vitality, and perhaps even on a whim regardless of what she was given throughout the course of her life; she understood to take those chances, even if it meant sacrificing a little here and there. "Make him well. And I will call on someone to see him on afterwards."

"Who?" Feng's voice was deep, bellowing at times, and now it flared in the wake of her childness. "Patience Feng…" Feng was not pleased, and regarded the creature with distaste.

"Do you know what it is?" His irritated tone did not bother her at all, "I believe it's a peacock."

[Days earlier]

The Soothsayer did not enter the city with exact happiness. It was something she recognized, and she had become mournful in the process. The walk became long, had made her weary - and it was times like these ones where she would find herself questioning her decisions, her actions. For although the events leading up to the present time solely depended on the characters in question, she would wonder absently the consequences of her sight. It was as if her ability represented the many doors to one's life at his crossroads, they might be aware of which door they chose to take, or otherwise remained blind and continue a path without knowing which one they had chosen. Regardless of the blind or the seeing, it was as if she could shed light on the potentials of that door they were about to embark.

But there was such an irony to it, and it was painfully sweet.

She smiled nonetheless; Gongmen City was alive once more. Rebuilding, celebrating their heroes' victory. The oppressive regime no longer frightened mothers from allowing their children to play outside their houses, in the streets; where vendors basked in its relief and found they were happier than before, anxious to sell and return to the natural pulse of the city.

"Soothsayer."

"Po," her smile grew, bowing together - she had much joy for him. "I wanted to say, you know, before we leave…" he had a grin about him, scratched his head absently in thought; he'd learned so much about his family, that despite the horror he had first witnessed in his memories gave him what he needed most to move on. "I can't thank you enough," he finally spat it out, his hands out in exaggeration.

The old goat chuckled, "Don't thank me," she shook her head, "You were in control of your own destiny- a little guidance, my dear, that's all I ever did."

"But-" the Soothsayer ducked her head, a playful air ran through her eyes when she laughed once more, preventing Po from protesting, and instead relented with a shrug. "All right, all right - but you did save me from that river." The old goat grinned, before they walked together and joined the rest of the team.

With them Masters Storming Ox and Croc appeared- despite the loss of their Master, they were now tasked with the guardianship of the city. A sobering feeling, but one in which both Masters would dutifully, and humbly seek to accomplish. They now stood in a pavilion as the sun wavered, well beyond noon. "Masters," the Soothsayer bowed, "Gongmen City is in your debt, you have cleared a new path for its people, so that they may now live in harmony. And with your help, Kung Fu and China remain under no restraints."

"It was our duty and pleasure," Master Shifu replied. "Will you not continue in your previous position, Soothsayer?"

"I have thought about it," she stroked her beard, "But my time has passed, and I must move on- that is the way of things."

"Very well… Masters Storming Ox and Croc, until we meet again." they brought their open hand and fists together, bowing one last time before the heroes of Gungmen City began their long journey home.

[Present Time]

Darkness wasn't the last thing he remembered.

It was the sound of his own limbs crushing, and having the weight of what seemed like the whole earth pulling him past the wood and layers of the ship, did he feel satisfaction then?

Dying was the only option, and so would his concoction for death in the form of fire and steal. His destiny, as it appeared- fulfilled, and wrote with failure from the very beginning.

Any other circumstances and maybe, he would have dealt with the panda as any other technicality in his way. Clean cut efficiency, for which that abdominal bear had dodged from… remaining there however, in the face of his own creation, he could at least throw himself in the fire, defy the Soothsayer's pestering voice that hovered over him in that second, and dismantle the panda's victory in a form of suicide - a suicide of conscious decision. And so it had plunged him into its depths with the loss of his thoughts gone to oblivion, and at the mercy of death he had craved savagely for. Would he not meet peace in the end?

In the throes of the in-between, between waking and sleeping- his sorrow, pain, took up as actors on a stage, and filled him with dreams, and dreams that felt so real that he was utterly helpless and defeated at their sight. Scars flourished here, examined and re-opened, over flowing with the backlog of thoughts that had not moved, had not dissolved among the years he felt such torment.

Beyond his own mind, he was with fever, sometimes the heat would startle him out of the unconsciousness, but that reality which only appeared dream-like, wavering and fuzzy provided him with illusion he couldn't discern from. He would be talking, but his voice would not always reach the air - and he would find his body too stiff and cold to finish these words.

At no point did he realize the mouse by his side, or recognize the owl when he appeared. He did not recall small nimble hands, her incisions when he had fallen asleep - and the movement of broken bone being re-aligned. When she was not steeping a warm pot of tea, or messaging the stiffness out of his body, she was playing her instrument- the tone of a weeping soul that fled into the theatre, and calmed the open scars for a while. Just enough to plunge back into darkness and into nothing at all, to no existence.

For this reason the Soothsayer could not sleep, had tried to - but that old familiar feeling had crept inside of her, and now she could only wait and listen. Smiles had faded, and her sight had become clouded in the process. Uncertainty had finally made its way through her knowledge, gnawed as a worm would through the core of an apple in the span of two weeks.

The conceptions of yin and yang warred in this uncertainty. A balance was being measured, but could not settle on one or the other. Great fulfillment resided on one far edge, the other is bare and hungry, ravenous and seeking. It was not despair that had touched her, that perhaps she had missed something; she approached it with as much concern any student might harbor for the task set before them. The student who is always listening, and learning; who is both flexible and open.

Thus, she would find a place in one of the gardens. She would sit there for hours, in the faces of the stars and of the sun. The wind was an old companion, the darkness farthest from her reach a bottomless well for which provided insight. Her meditation would unveil the uncertainty in waves, and gave her reassurance that all would come together in due time.