Hey everybody! This is my first Kung Fu Panda fanfic. It's a one-shot about the Wolf Boss. It basically runs through his entire life and attempts to explain the decisions he made through the lence of his quest to become a good leader. It's much better than it sounds, so please read it. I love hearing what people think, so please review! ~Moore12~
Leading the Pack
It had gone too far. Even he knew that—despite everything he had done, he couldn't bring himself to light the cannon. Yes, his whole past was dark and bloody, but he knew deep down in his core that this was wrong. His moral compass may be a little off admittedly but he wasn't about to listen to his master, wasn't about to commit yet another atrocity.
Ever since he was a young pup—still innocent and unaware the world could produce such great evils—pack meant everything. The mentality was coded in his DNA and a large part of his life and upbringing. He was the son of the pack leader and was expected to learn to lead, although he was never explicitly told this by his father. No, his father rarely spoke to him about leadership, instead choosing to lead by example.
As any good wolf would do…
Over the years, he watched his father keep the pack together. Over the years, he watched their small village grow and become even more prosperous. They were wolves, and they kept to themselves for the most part. The pack mentality, so ingrained, kept them together and kept them from spreading out across China.
When his father died, chaos ensued. He was young, too young to adequately lead, and the other wolves knew it. Like his father's lessons on leadership, the words were left unspoken and the sentiment stayed beneath the surface. The thought he couldn't lead—that it would be taken from him and everything his father created would be destroyed—was too much, the fact that the belief was there, festering under the surface, drove him mad. He didn't want to believe the whispers were true—that he needed more experience to truly run their now crumbling village.
Two wolves—older and well respected members of the pack—challenged his leadership one day in the middle of a brutal winter, and he met their challenges with his teeth. It was a strategy he had seen his father turn to only once, but, caught up in the passion of the moment, it was the only he felt would work. When the dust finally settled, his challengers were dead. Peace had died with his father; he would rule by bloodshed.
Watching the village crumble, he couldn't bear to see it fall completely. Keeping with his bloody path, he brought together his most trusted—and strongest—friends and formed a pack of bandits. As their ruthless exploits became known across China, nobody questioned his leadership again. He became feared—feared by the more peaceful members of the pack, feared by the members of the villages around his. But it didn't feel entirely right.
This, this was effective leadership. But was it good leadership? He didn't know.
One day after a particularly successful raid, he returned to his small house and was confronted by an unexpected visitor. A peacock, surrounded by his guard of rhinos, wanted to speak to him, and he wasn't naïve enough to refuse this visitor his company. He knew this could be big—serving the ruler of Gongmen City—would mean their future would no longer be in question.
The peacock was blunt, explaining he could use an individual with his particular set of skills and resources. "I'll make it worth your while," he said. "You and your pack will become respectable members of society again, and I'll make it so your village prospers once more. There's only one catch: you must never go down the path you were on again."
He had to put his pack first, and he was more than happy to abandon the path of bloodshed he was on to head a portion of the ruler's guard. He took the vows—along with the rest of his warriors—and went to the city, leaving village in the throes of rebuilding. Still, he knew what he was doing was right, and the pack followed him. There would be no more need to show his teeth—except when forced as a member of the guard. All was well…
But it wasn't, and he found that out quickly.
The bloodshed had to stop. It just had to stop. He couldn't let his master harm his pack and he wouldn't. It ended here. The darkness had consumed him, yes, but he wouldn't let it define him completely. He had willingly done terrible things, but he had done them when commanded to, had done them to his enemies. Not to his own pack. He still knew, despite all the blood on his paws, his duty was to protect his pack at all cost, and he defied his master. He wouldn't turn the cannon on his own.
The other guards—the rhinos and oxen—distrusted them and voiced their complaints about living with wolves, and the rulers wanted nothing to do with them. Everyone affiliated with them didn't trust them, and that reality began to eat away at him. He and his pack had reformed—had given up their bandit ways and were serving the ruler of the city himself. He had secured prosperity for his pack, but clearly had yet to receive the respect he felt he had finally earned.
The grumblings of his pack members became more frequent—the sneers of their fellow guards and scorn of those they had vowed to protect were eating away at them. He felt the same. To him, it seemed as if their new master had only brought them into the fold to keep them from sacking other villages. He felt the contempt of his pack members, and he knew he was failing them…and his father.
Lord Shen, the heir to the throne, took an interest in them. He alone treated them like family—he, in his own way, became one of them. Even though he was a frail, albino peacock, he fit in with the wolves.
He began to respect the peacock more and more and soon became his trusted advisor and closest friend—ally, never truly a friend. Eventually, he and his pack swore unconditional loyalty to Shen. It seemed like the right thing to do. Only Shen had treated them like anything more than "reformed" bandits. Only Shen truly trusted them. Shen needed them, and they needed Shen. He held the key to the pack's future, to his future as well. He was on the way to respectability.
It wasn't to be.
Shen began to use fireworks as weapons, began to speak of ruling all of China, not just his city. He became delusional, violent—he wanted control of what he couldn't honestly control. Despite his own misgivings about him, he stuck with him, thinking he would give up his schemes and learn what true leadership meant as he believed he had at that point.
True leadership to Shen meant bloodshed, and he was dragged into it. He was brought back into the world he had tried to escape. With his obligation to Shen, he would never be able to escape again. But, a part of him relished in being in command of Shen's effective, ruthless military machine. It made him feel strong—made him feel like a good leader.
So, he committed atrocities willingly. At Shen's command he and his pack butchered an entire village of pandas—even the children. He thought nothing of it, steeling himself, telling himself that this was all necessary. His paws were wet with blood once again, but his pack's future was secured because Shen's leadership was secure. He had lost his eye in a most ignoble way, yes, but had gained so much more. Or so he had thought.
They were exiled. Shen lost his throne, and he lost any shred of respectability he had. He was the butcher of the innocents, worse than a mere bandit. They left, following Shen, their tails between their legs.
Following Shen had felt right, but it had gone so wrong.
Still, he was an honorary member of their pack, and loyalty was coded into their DNA. They would not abandon him. They would continue to willingly do their bidding. He was all they had, they were all he had. They needed each other, they fed of each other.
Shen was their leader, yes, but he was the true leader of the pack. They looked to him, first and foremost, and he kept them working hard, kept their site set on ruling China…
Through bloodshed. Why was peace so hard to maintain? What secret had his father kept from him that would have prevented all of this from happening?
They built weapons, they raided towns. They built more weapons, they raided more towns. The cannons would end kung fu, would establish Shen as the ruler of China. They stood by him, fought and killed for him—loyal servants through and through. He was the leader of the pack, yes, but he was Shen's servant.
He was no leader.
Standing on the boat, listening to his master scream at him to light the fuse that would kill countless members of his pack, he realized something. Being a good leader meant being loyal to one's subjects—he couldn't be a good leader just by securing their loyalty. The bloodshed would stop; he wouldn't allow his master to kill his pack. And, as his master's knives sliced through him, he realized before that he had finally done the right thing, had finally become a true leader. The darkness fell upon him, but he had found peace in fulfilling his duty.
He had done what any good wolf would do…truly put the pack first.