Warning: The following section describes images of animal cruelty. I do NOT approve whatsoever of any cruel and sadistic acts done against animals, and the examples are entirely fictional. As far as I know, Friskies does not use ground-up dogs in its products, so please don't boycott Friskies because of that. I have also borrowed a concept from Friends, which also does not belong to me.
And a reply to my anonymous reviewer Aaron: Yay, I'm glad you're enjoying this. The reason why it appeared to have "stopped" was because this is my "dammit, I can't write anything more with my other fics" fic, and I post whenever I get writer's block with my other fics. Rest assured, there is plenty more already written on this story; it's just a matter of me hitting writer's block and posting.
A Funeral, Yummy Ice Cream, and 'The Code'
"Mail call," Nightwolf announced, coming into the kitchen. The noises of conversation died away as mail was distributed and read.
"How come we still have to pay bills even though we're not using our own homes?" Sonya frowned, looking at her cable bill.
"How come we still don't have an answer to that question, even though that's the seventh time this month you've asked it?" Jax retorted, looking at his extensive electric bill.
A whoop brought their attention to Stryker, who looked much more cheerful than when he first walked blindly into the kitchen with bed hair, demanding coffee and yummy NY French Vanilla ice cream. "What is it, Stryker?" Liu asked.
"My Great-Aunt Trudy's dead!"
Liu shared a confused look with the others before returning his gaze to the joyous man. "Um, I'm sorry for your loss . . . I think?"
Stryker glared at Liu as though he were growing horns out of his head. "What the hell are you sorry for? It's about time the crusty old hag died. I swear, the only reason she lived to be 109 was to spite the family."
"Stryker, she is still family," Kitana shook her head at his terrible attitude toward the death. "You should grant her respect."
Stryker shrugged, entirely dismissive. "We disowned each other, so I don't consider her family. The only thing I ever regret about that event is the fact that she beat me to it."
"What's got you so put off about your great-aunt, Stryker?" Sonya wanted to know. "I mean, sure, if she was 109 she was probably a little senile, but before–"
"I haven't talked to her since I was ten years old, but I know for a fact that what she did with her life had nothing to do with senility. She was one hell of an animal cruelty supporter."
"Animal cruelty?" Jax raised a brow. "I didn't expect you to be an animal rights activist. I mean, you don't even have pets."
"I used to," Stryker replied, a nostalgic look creeping across his face. "My dad got me a puppy for my fifth birthday."
"I thought you didn't like dogs," Sub-Zero tilted his head, slightly confused.
"Then Great-Aunt Trudy ran it over with her car."
The Defenders paled. "The poor thing," Sonya made a sympathetic face. "Did you have a burial for it?"
"Didn't get a chance. As soon as she was done mowing it over with her car seven times she took it to her barn, skinned what was left of the fur, and ground the meat up for a pet food company. Friskies if I remember right."
The group stared. "You are joking, right?" Nightwolf gulped. He could not imagine his own family hurting Kiva and using the corpse in such a. . . derogatory fashion.
"Nope. She did that with a lot of the neighborhood pets. She even caught a parrot and used the feathers for pillow stuffing. She had a real liking for kittens, too. Skinned and boiled a newborn while it was still alive before she chopped it up. I didn't get to play with the other kids in school for two years because of that."
Silence pervaded the room. Kitana soon turned to Jax and asked him, "I am not well-versed in Earth's culture, but. . . his family is downright freaky, correct?"
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Jax nodded.
Stryker shrugged. "Don't blame me. Blame the Irish. They're the ones that bred her."
"What is this about blaming the Irish?" Rayden interrupted as he teleported in, narrowing his eyes at Stryker. "The Irish make a good brew, what do you have against them?"
"The loss of a fine puppy and several other beloved household pets," Stryker replied without hesitation.
Rayden appeared at a loss for words, caught off-guard by Stryker's reasoning. "Okay. . . So why are we talking about Stryker's great-aunt?"
"She's dead and I'm thrilled," Stryker sighed in relief, placing his hands behind his head and resting his feet on the table. "No more haunting memories of stuffed ferrets for me. I can go on with my life and forget I was ever related to such a sadistic person."
"Stryker?" Sub-Zero interrupted, holding his letter. "You may have to wait for that to happen. It says here she left something in her will for you, and you must attend the hearing in a few hours to receive it."
Stryker lowered his feet with a loud clunk. "She left something for me in her will?"
Sub-Zero wrinkled his brow at him. "Why must Americans repeat information before doing something about it?"
"Do you have any idea what she would want to leave you?" Sonya asked.
"Aside from a horrendously-ugly-afghan-that-defies-all-fashion-rules-that-even-she-didn't-want? No."
"I guess you'll have to go to the reading of the will, then," Liu shrugged. "Honestly, it shouldn't be that bad. I mean, she's already dead, what more can she do to you?"
"Liu," Jax scolded him, "we're living through a tournament with a tyrannical emperor of another dimension where we have to fight, on a daily basis, beings that shouldn't exist except for in a kid's closet. How much do you want to bet that something isn't going to happen?"
The room was silent once again.
"Fifty bucks for something happening within an hour of the event," Nightwolf placed his bet down on the table.
"I say twenty minutes," Jax followed Nightwolf.
Sub-Zero placed his own bet on the table. "Half an hour."
"Fifteen minutes," Liu put his bet on top of the ninja's.
"Two hours, thirty-one minutes, and seventeen seconds," Sonya slapped her bet down. She met their skeptical gazes with an innocent "What?"
"Fifty minutes," Kitana slowly placed hers on top.
"An hour and a half," Rayden got in on the action as well.
While the fighters were busy with this, Stryker glared around the table at his comrades before groaning and putting his forehead on the table.
Today was not going to be a good day.
------
"You guys really didn't have to come along, you know," Stryker winced at his friends as they walked up his dusty driveway to an old house that rested on a farm. He didn't know what irritated him more: the fact that he was attending his long-hated Great-Aunt Trudy's funeral, the fact that he would be enduring his manic mother's harping about his bachelorhood in a few minutes, or the fact that his tie itched like crazy. He twisted the offending garment for the fifth time in the past ten minutes and added, "It will probably be long and boring and I doubt you all want to get stuck with my relatives–"
"Kurtis!" Stryker blanched and spun, growing paler as a small woman hurtled down the porch steps with a speed that belied her size. She tackled him and hugged him fiercely around the neck; her blonde hair was dressed in tight curls around her face and blue eyes were squeezed firmly shut as she hugged the Captain.
"Ma–you're choking me!" Stryker gasped.
"It's so good to see you home!" the woman–Mrs. Stryker–cheered, ignoring her son's flushed face. "And you brought friends with you as well!"
"Yeah," Stryker rasped, rubbing his throat tenderly. "Ma, this is Liu, Kitana, Chang and Ray," Chang was the alias for Sub-Zero and Rayden had decided to join the group in visiting Stryker's childhood residence, "Nightwolf, Jax, and this is Sonya–"
"Your wife!" Mrs. Stryker interrupted, taking Sonya's hand and eagerly squeezing it.
Stryker choked. "What– no, no Ma, Sonya isn't–"
"You honestly should have told us sooner, Kurtis," Mrs. Stryker spoke over his voice, completely oblivious to the group's look of shock. "Especially if you had eloped. Of course, the marriage between your father and I was an elopement, but you shouldn't have felt the need to hide your marriage from me. I am your mother after all. But it truly is about time you got married, I was near to thinking I would have to tie you up and marry you to the first available woman. Come come, we can talk all about the happiness of marriage later. We still have your Great-Aunt Trudy to say hello to."
The mother wandered off, leaving the group staring at her retreating back. After a moment Stryker turned to them dramatically and pointed to her. "That," he said through gritted teeth, "is why I don't go home for the holidays."
"Why is she assuming we're married?" Sonya growled.
"She's been after me to get hitched for years," Stryker grumbled. "Ever since I turned eighteen and took my first step out of the house she's been nagging me about it. Every year she sends a Christmas card with the list of women that are still single in the neighborhood."
"At least you get that," Jax raised a brow, still unsure if he liked to entertain the thought of his partner and Stryker married—again. "The only thing my mother sends me is a cheap Hallmark card and a ticket to see the Supremes."
Rayden cocked his head. "The Supremes are disbanded."
"That's why I said his gift was better."
"What do you think she meant by saying hello to your great-aunt, Stryker?" Nightwolf asked, wishing once again that Kiva was by his side. But after what Stryker had revealed about his family, he felt the wolf was safer at the base–and away from animal-cruelty supporters.
"Probably meant my adieus," Stryker shrugged. "What else could she mean?"
------
Stryker stared at the doorway, disbelieving his luck. When his family had sent the letter to him, they had made it sound like his Great-Aunt Trudy had finally kicked the bucket. The reality: the woman still had an ounce of fight left in her but wanted to see her will done out to her liking before she croaked.
Cursing that ounce for all his worth, Stryker twisted the doorknob and opened the door, dragging his feet like a reluctant child.
"Pick up your feet and get in here, you lazy scum," the voice from the bed should have been weak, but there was still a strong vitality to it. "And shut that damn door. You're letting all the incense out."
Personally, Stryker felt it would do the room a service to leave the door open and air it out, but he closed the door and came as close to the bed as he could muster the courage for.
Two feet from the foot of the bed was close enough, right?
"Get over here and let me have a look at you, you ass," the old lady scowled.
Gritting his teeth, Stryker shuffled forward and reminded himself of all the worse times.
Finding the fridge empty of NY French Vanilla ice cream. Finding the fridge empty of Chocolate Chip ice cream. Finding the fridge empty of Pink Bubblegum ice cream.
Yes, he had to admit to himself that he found that last flavor enticing. Especially now.
"You been eating properly lately?" the old woman growled. "You look thin."
"My eating habits are perfectly fine, thank you," Stryker retorted, trying to stay civil.
"Oh, don't give me any of that crap! You're a scoundrel and we both know it, so quit with your polite tongue and sit down!"
He sat. Then he glared. "I am not a scoundrel."
"You married?"
"Er, in contradiction to what my mother might have you believe, no."
"Then I suppose you're right, you ain't a scoundrel."
"Thanks. . . I think."
"You're a Don Juan with bad looks!"
Stryker sighed. "I was right the first time. I'm not thankful."
"Don't take that tone with me! I'm your elder and to be treated with respect!"
Rolling his eyes, he grumbled, "What did you want to see me for? I have better things to do with my time than listen to someone insult me."
"Pipe down!" the old woman grabbed a rolled-up newspaper sitting on her night stand and struck him on the knee. "I'll say what I want to say when I want to say it!"
Stryker winced. That slap on the knee hurt.
"Now," the old woman puffed herself up to look imperial and self-righteous. Stryker simply thought she looked wrinkly and toad-like. "You're wondering why I left you something in my will, even though we disagree on certain topics."
Stryker duly noted that she took full control of what his emotions were.
"The fact is, you're the only one who ain't a damn sycophant and trying to keep me happy. You have an opinion and you voice it. As irritating, wrong, and retarded as you are, you have guts to say them."
Stryker sighed mentally. She and Sonya should get together and make a Let's-Bash-Stryker's-Ego club.
"So, for that reason, I have decided to give you monetary inheritance. The majority of it shall be given to you, and the remaining portion is for other purposes. That is why, so now you won't have to overstrain that pea you call a brain thinking about it."
Stryker lifted a brow. Well, that explained some things. "So, how much am I getting?"
The glare the old woman gave him scared him pee-less. "GET OUT!"
------
"I can't believe Stryker's mother thinks I'm married to him," Sonya sulked to Kitana, sipping her ice cream shake through a straw in a hallway. "How can she possibly think that?"
"You were married to him before, Sonya," Kitana replied, drinking her own shake with delicacy. Noticing the glare, Kitana amended her comment, "Unlawfully wedded, to be sure, but in essence you were married to him. In Edenia, there are no such things as marriage licenses, and there are no such things as divorces."
"Good thing we weren't married in Edenia then," Sonya sipped once more, worshiping the shake. "Yummy."
"Yummy indeed," Kitana echoed fervently.
A man appeared from seemingly nowhere, taking the open seat next to Sonya and saying, "Hey there, you must be new. I'm Jonas, Jonas Gabriel."
Sonya busied herself with drinking her shake, doing her best to ignore the man. She was already falsely married to someone; the last thing she needed was a false boyfriend. But when it became obvious Jonas wasn't taking the hint to leave, she gave him a smarmy smile and said, "Blade. Lieutenant Blade."
Kitana could tell this would turn out badly. And she had no intention whatsoever of getting in the middle of it. She excused herself elegantly (enough to be worthy of praise from even Shao Kahn) and scurried away. Even though her back was turned, Kitana knew Sonya was glowering and swearing silently against her.
"So, what is it exactly that you do, Lieutenant?" Jonas queried innocently. "I mean, what branch do you work for?"
"Special Forces," Sonya grated out. "Look, I'm not in the mood for company right now so if you could please leave that would be nice."
His face fell. "But, we're having such a great time."
A great time? We barely exchanged three sentences! "And I'm dreadfully sorry to disappoint you," Sonya replied, "but I really feel like having some alone-time right now."
Just as the Jonas began to speak again Stryker came into view, looking slightly pale and queasy. "Where is everyone?" he asked Sonya, ignoring Jonas.
"I don't know where the guys are, but if Kitana knows what's good for her, she's looking for a nice patch of ground for a final resting place."
Stryker raised a brow, but didn't inquire further. "Alright. Well, I'd say we should blow this joint, but . . . my mother'd kick my ass from here to Kingdom Come if I left so soon."
Jonas cleared his voice, drawing Stryker's attention. "Could you excuse us?" he asked icily. "The lady and I were having a nice chat before you rudely interrupted."
Raising his other brow, Stryker replied, "You and Sonya? Having a nice chat? What did you use to spike her shake?"
Sonya was fighting the urge to kick Stryker in the knee when inspiration dawned on her. I never thought I would be thanking Stryker's mother for anything, but here I am thanking her for such a smart idea. "Jonas, I really do hate to leave you like this, but my husband and I have to go find our friends and liven the place up. Until next time." With that, she grabbed a befuddled Stryker's arm and dragged him down the hallway, sparing only a second to revel in Jonas' shocked look.
When they were safely away Sonya dropped Stryker's arm and growled, "If you tell anyone about what happened back there, Kitana will have a grave-neighbor within a day. And I when I say grave, I don't mean the adjective."
"What the hell was all that about, anyway?" Stryker demanded, glancing back down the hall and back to her. "Why'd you tell Joanie that we're married?"
She paused. "'Joanie'?"
"Nickname. He's some sort of cousin to me, but we haven't had much contact. Nothing pleasant, at least. We went to school together, but I had my clique of friends and he. . . had himself. I always hated him. Used too much time dressing up for P.E. and not enough time watching where he was swinging his bat. So I and everyone else that hates him call him Joanie."
"He didn't seem to recognize you. . ."
"I'm not surprised," Stryker shrugged. "He was always in his own little world, believing that he was the best because his parents could afford five cows instead of just four. Senior year, he couldn't name one of his teachers that he was taking classes from because he thought he was better than them."
"That's sad," Sonya shook her head. She tilted her head at him. "So, how was your great-aunt?"
From his grimace she could predict his answer easily. "The nicest thing she could do for me was take back calling me a scoundrel in favor of calling me a philanderer. Other than that, she called me retarded and her room stinks like a barn that hasn't been cleaned in fifty years."
They found their way into the reception hall and where Jax was talking with a woman. The woman had long, strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, and upon closer inspection Sonya could see her eyes were hazel.
Stryker frowned. "What does Jax think he's doing?"
"What do you mean?" Sonya didn't receive an answer as he stormed to Jax. With a disgruntled sigh she followed him.
Jax turned as he felt a tap on his shoulder, and found an irate Stryker glaring at him. "What are you doing?" the Captain demanded without a single greeting.
"Talking with Lindsey here," Jax smiled at the woman, who smiled back. However, Sonya detected a certain mischief in that smile.
"I can see that, Jax," Stryker growled. "I still don't know why you're talking to her."
"Oh, lay off, Kurt," Lindsey rolled her eyes. "He is a perfect gentleman."
Sonya and Jax exchanged a startled glance. She called him Kurt, and from Stryker's look he wasn't ready to reprimand her like he would have others in her place.
"Maybe I should make a more formal introduction, since it's obvious Kurt's too busy glaring Jax down to make one," Lindsey stated. She did a tiny curtsy and said, "Lindsey Stryker, pleased to make your acquaintances."
Jax started. "Lindsey Stryker? You're related to . . . him?" he pointed to their comrade.
"Yes," Stryker snapped. "She's my little sister, Jax."
"And I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Kurt," Lindsey shot back. "Especially about my dating interests."
Without waiting for her brother's answer she grabbed Jax's arm and led him away, ignoring the Major's confused blathering. Sonya whistled. "Looks like they're getting on well."
"Don't say that," Stryker hissed. "He's breaking The Code!"
"'The Code'?" Sonya snorted. "What's 'The Code'?"
"The Code firmly states," Stryker began vehemently, "that you are never to date your friend's former girlfriends, prospective dates, and relations, especially little sisters!"
"Oh, for God's sakes," Sonya rolled her eyes at him, "how juvenile can men be? Codes are for high school boys that have no lives or self-confidence."
Her words had no effect on the man; Stryker seethed as he thought of Jax flirting with his little sister. "Liu, Nightwolf, and Sub-Zero had better stay away from my other sisters if they know what's good for them."
"Four things, Stryker. One, Nightwolf is happily married. Second, Liu has a girlfriend–though not for long," Sonya added under her breath. "Thirdly, do you honestly think Sub-Zero would look for a relationship? And the last thing, how many sisters do you have?"
"Five, including Linz. And I'd rather be safe than sorry. C'mon, let's go find them."
"What in the world would a woman want with six children?"
"Seven children, actually. My parents were waiting for a boy. They had three girls before I came along, and Lindsey after me. After her came fraternal twins."
"They should have stopped after the third girl," Sonya mumbled. Stryker gave her a glare before returning to looking for their other three male comrades.
Liu and Nightwolf they found nowhere near female company; Nightwolf for the reason that he was married and Liu because he was keeping the Indian company. Both took Stryker's threats lightly and waved him onward to the food table (more accurately, the ice cream table; nothing except yummy sundaes, splits, shakes, and gallon-buckets of ice cream could be seen on the tabletop) where Sub-Zero stood. Two women were with him, and from Stryker's increasingly belligerent look Sonya decided that they were two of Stryker's other sisters.
One was much younger than Stryker; she seemed barely past her teenager years. Her hair was waist-long and completely blonde, with the same hazel eyes as Stryker and Lindsey. She was short with a delicate frame, making her hand-me-down clothes drape around her like robes.
The second woman was older, with more lines about her eyes than Stryker. Her straight, flaming-red hair was cut to ear-length, and instead of the hazel eyes belonging to her siblings they were bright blue. She was dressed in a casual business suit, with a cell phone in one hand and the other resting on the table.
Sub-Zero was obviously uncomfortable around both women. That observation went past Stryker as he came up behind him and growled, "Anne, Sara, Su–Chang, what are you doing?"
Turning quickly, Sub-Zero raised his eyes briefly in a 'Thank you God' look and said, "I was actually going to find Liu. I'll see you later."
He fled the area, leaving the two women to sigh. Actually, the younger one sighed; the woman shrugged and flipped her cell open as it rang. "Hello? Oh, finally Eric, where the hell have you been? The party's been a serious bust—hang on a minute." She parted with the device to smile at Stryker and said, "Hey Kurt. Ma was looking for you, crowing about your marriage."
Stryker scowled. "I'm not married, Anne. And where are Meredith and Madison?"
"In the garage tinkering with the old truck, like always," Anne rolled her eyes. "Look, sorry to cut the reunion short, but I really have to take this call." With that she walked away.
"Isn't she a busy little badger," Sonya snorted.
"Anne always is," the girl–Sara–shrugged. "She actually tried to convince the doctors to let her type her resume while she was in labor with her third."
Stryker turned to his younger sister and glowered down at her. "Sara, I don't want you flirting with any of my friends, you hear me? They're too old for you."
"I wasn't flirting," Sara tried to deny, lamely at that. When his glare only intensified, she caved. "Okay, fine, so I was flirting. What're you going to do about it?"
"Tell Dad," he replied firmly.
Her already pale face whitened even more. "You wouldn't!"
"Worse yet, maybe I'll tell Ma."
Fuming, Sara stomped off in the opposite direction Sub-Zero went. Stryker felt pretty good with himself, but then he caught sight of Sonya's raised brow. "I'm her older brother, I have to do something to keep her in line," he muttered.
"Aren't you a little old to be playing tattletale?" she retorted.
He sneered at her before a loud bell chimed in the room. "I have to go," he sighed. "The will's being read now."
"Have fun," Sonya called after him, smiling deviously. "Be sure to appreciate all that your great-aunt did for you!"
"You know where to shove it, Blade!" was the instant rejoinder.
------
Stryker looked around the table at those sitting in the hearing with him, whimpering internally. To his right was his mother, who continually beamed at him and told her neighbors how her first son had finally tied the knot with a beautiful woman; to his left was his father who patted him on the shoulder sympathetically and murmured to him that eventually she would stop focusing on the topic of marriage—only to move on to the topic of grandchildren.
Stryker still hadn't decided which was worse.
Across from him sat Jonas Gabriel, to his amazement. Stryker had thought his cousin only attended the 'funeral' because the entire town had been invited (and only an eighth showed up, Stryker had noted). But it appeared that his great-aunt had something to bequeath to Gabriel.
And it also appeared that Gabriel had a bone to pick with him. Ever since Stryker had taken his seat across from him, Gabriel hadn't moved his eyes elsewhere. It started to become unnerving, especially when other people tried holding a conversation with Gabriel and the man continued to stare resolutely at Stryker.
He suspected Sonya had something to do with it, and the fact that Gabriel believed he was married to her. He could easily stand up and tell the entire group–specifically his mother and Gabriel–that he was not married, and that meant especially to Sonya.
But then Gabriel would know that Sonya was free to date, and he would begin following her, and that meant an irritated Sonya. Ergo, a dead Stryker would turn up shortly after the announcement, and not just his mother that would suffer from a heart-attack due to the shock of the truth. And Stryker liked living, thank you very much.
That, and his roach of a Great-Aunt Trudy would outlive him if Sonya murdered him.
And that was completely unacceptable.
So Stryker sat in his chair, enduring his mother's exaggerations (currently she had him and Sonya married two years with a child on the way, and that was after they adopted a whole orphanage of children and donated their life-savings to the unfortunate in some nameless country someplace in South America) and ignoring Gabriel's glares. He stared diligently up at the ceiling, trying to count all the ponies his great-aunt had painted on her ceiling and occasionally slurped his yummy Vanilla shake.
It really is a yummy shake, Stryker thought. I need to get the recipe.
Finally, the attorney entered the room with a pile of manila folders. The man did not look like the stereotypical lawyer; he was robust and scar-faced, with one eye hidden underneath a patch and one side of his mouth scarred and dragged downward in an eternal frown.
Just figures that Great-Aunt would hire the most unpleasant of the bunch, Stryker mused.
"Order, order," the attorney spoke, catching Stryker off-guard again. While the man was huge in appearance, his voice was squeaky and hushed. "Now, we are here to settle the affairs of one Trudy Isabelle Stryker. Is Jonas Gabriel present?"
"Yes," Gabriel raised a hand, finally taking his eyes off of Stryker.
"You, young man," the attorney shifted through the manila folders until he found just the right one. The folder was three inches thick. "Have been bequeathed with Ms. Stryker's business—The Cat's Paw."
The Cat's Paw indeed. Also the tail and the eyes and the intestines. . . .
The attorney passed the folder down to Gabriel; the latter did not look very pleased. In fact, if Stryker were to put it bluntly, he looked downright P.O.'ed.
"Jacob Stryker?" Stryker's father raised his hand. "You have been bequeathed with Ms. Stryker's house. All her material belongings aside from her wealth and an afghan are included."
The attorney passed on a second folder. That one was as thick as Gabriel's, but his father did not share the same disappointment. His father remained thoughtful and unprovoked, as Stryker had always remembered him.
"All minor inheritance have been discussed and distributed. The only other matter is Ms. Stryker's wealth, and she requested for it to be done privately-"
"Wait a minute!" an old man–his uncle from his mother's side, if Stryker remembered correctly–stood and slammed a fist down indignantly. "We have a right to know where all that money is going! She owes people money and we demand to be compensated!"
"Oh, pipe down, Mick," Stryker's father rolled his eyes. "The old woman paid you her dues months ago, she owes no one anything. And to anyone else that she forgot in her illness, you'll get your money, I'm sure the recipient wouldn't dream of swindling you your money."
As he spoke his eyes came to rest on his son. Stryker shrugged carelessly. His job at the NYPD paid him well enough so that he could live in his apartment comfortably. Add to that the money Rayden had promised everyone after the tournament came to a close, he could retire and live in a life of luxury in the cabin he bought up in the Catskills a few years ago at the ripe old age of thirty-six. His great-aunt's fortune wouldn't give him anything he didn't already have.
Aside from a solution to my mother's fixation on marriage and grandchildren, perhaps.
"Who is the recipient?" a woman inquired. Stryker didn't recognize her; he supposed she was a third cousin or something.
The attorney sighed and decided he could at least give out the name. "Ms. Stryker has chosen Kurtis Stryker to receive a portion of her wealth and-"
"Him?" the woman demanded, glaring at him dreadfully. Stryker felt like hiding behind his father and crying—why was everyone glaring at him today?
"Do you have a problem with my son, Betsy?" his mother growled.
Stryker put his face in his hands and moaned. This would not turn out pretty; his mother had the most vocal backbone of the family. When someone poked fun at her children, Mother Stryker became a very vicious person.
But now at least he knew who the woman was: his aunt-twice removed Betsy Flint. The same aunt that had caused a ruckus when he was twelve by marrying his three-times removed uncle, Barry Rabble. Not to mention adopting and raising piglets as children.
He still didn't know why he was subjected to such a dysfunctional family.
"Yes, I do, Liza," Betsy retorted. "He has no right to that money, he turned his back on the dear old woman years ago and broke her heart!"
Broke her heart my ass. She probably broke out a keg of her oldest stuff and partied the night away.
"Now, Betsy, you know Aunt Trudy as well as I do," Stryker's father stepped in, ever the mediator. "If anyone is as venom-filled as the devil himself, it's her. And I know no one can disagree with me."
No one did. They all nodded understandingly, even the attorney.
"So let the attorney finish his part and let him go on home, where he can return to sanity."
Betsy gave Stryker one last glower before sitting down. Stryker's mother huffed and turned her nose away.
Giving Jacob Stryker a thankful look, the attorney returned to what he had been saying.
"Kurtis Stryker has been bequeathed with monetary fortune, totaling to a very handsome figure. The two-thirds of her wealth she has left him has been tax-deducted, and comes to the grand total of. . . ."
------
"So things are going well with Lindsey?" Sonya chuckled with the others at Jax's discomfort. They were lazing about the reception hall, waiting for Stryker to return from the hearing. It had been well over an hour now, but they entertained themselves by tormenting Jax.
"I didn't know, alright!" Jax growled. "Something about her reminded me of Stryker, but I just figured it was the brain-freeze the shake gave me! And damn that was a yummy shake," he added thoughtfully.
"And that's why you now have a date with her this Friday?" Liu rolled his eyes, ignoring Jax's comment and using his left arm to reassure Kitana. Sonya kept giving Kitana rather nasty looks, and the Champion could only guess what was going on between the two.
"Don't talk so loud!" Jax hushed, panicked. "Stryker could be anywhere near here!"
"And of course you don't want him hearing how badly you've broken The Code," Nightwolf shook his head.
"What is it with men and this code?" Sonya demanded. "I suppose I can understand Stryker and Jax's obsession with it, but not you, Nightwolf."
The men all stared at Sonya. "The Code is followed by every man, Sonya," Sub-Zero told her as though it were common knowledge. Liu nodded in agreement.
Sonya looked at Rayden in supplication. "Please don't tell me you follow this damn code, too, Rayden," she begged.
"Me?" the Thunder God scoffed. "I'm a god, I'm above all that nonsense."
"Thank the Lord," Sonya sighed.
"But Jax is toeing over the line, what with him dating one of his own friend's sisters–"
"Men are hopeless!" Sonya threw up her hands and turned away from them.
"I have to agree with Sonya," Kitana nodded. "You are all adults, you should be able to put this aside and settle this like grown men."
"Thank you, Kitana."
"You're welcome, Sonya."
"But this does not redeem your actions."
"Damn."
Staring at Kitana, the men were about to question her foul language when Stryker entered the room, slumping onto the couch where Jax, Liu, Kitana, and Nightwolf were seated. As the couch was made for only four people, Jax had to get up in order to give Stryker the space he needed for sitting. "You okay, Stryker?" the Major asked, taking in his pallid complexion. "You're looking a little pale."
Stryker looked up, seemingly brought back down to earth with the Major's words. "Fine, I guess," he mumbled.
"How did the hearing go?" Nightwolf wanted to know.
Stryker stared off into space for a moment longer before shrugging helplessly. "I am three million, five hundred thousand dollars and sixty-nine cents and one horrendously-ugly-afghan-that-defies-all-fashion-rules-that-even-she-didn't-want richer than I was two hours ago."
It took a minute for everyone to understand what he just said. When they did, they couldn't believe it. "You are joking, right?" Liu laughed nervously.
"No," Stryker shook his head and took out a check. Sure enough, written in bold numbering was $3,500,000.69 in the little square. "The afghan is still in her room, I'm waiting til the last minute to get it."
The group stared at the check, and the silence was broken by Sonya's whistle. "I'm starting to like being married to Stryker," she chirped.
"I'm sure you do," Stryker retorted. He wisely chose not to mention the rumors his mother had been whispering around about their 'marriage' (She now had him as the next Bill Gates, with technical skills to rival the Microsoft giant and would be attending the marriage of their youngest child—their fifteenth, not including those they had adopted—to a wealthy prince of England next month). He looked back down at the check. "What the hell am I supposed to do with three and a half million dollars?"
"Do you honestly need an answer to that?" Jax asked.
"I can't believe she gave you all her money," Nightwolf said. "I thought you said you hate each other."
"We did. She just liked me more because I didn't treat her nicely. And she didn't give me all her money."
"She didn't?" Rayden questioned.
"No. Apparently selling the corpses of animals is a lot more profitable than I thought. I only got two-thirds of her fortune."
"What happened to the other third?" Sub-Zero frowned.
"Went to animal charities."
"Animal charities!" everyone chorused.
"Animal charities," Stryker confirmed with a nod.
"Your great-aunt is a strange woman," Kitana stated after a moment of contemplation. No one disagreed with her, except:
"Was. She was a strange woman." At their questioning looks Stryker elaborated, "Just found out she died. She had wanted in on the will-reading, but when they refused to carry her out of the bed she had a fit and finally kicked the bucket. Screamed like a damn mountain lion until the end, apparently."
"Terrible," Rayden shook his head. Then he smiled at Stryker. "Say, Stryker, were you by any chance thinking about giving some of that to your old friends?"
Stryker eyed the god critically. "You can make your own money, Rayden. What the hell do you want with mine?"
"Oh. I forgot." Rayden conjured up some bills and smiled happily.
"What about us?" Liu demanded. "We can't make money."
"Hey, back off, I'm his wife," Sonya growled. "I get first dibs."
Stryker sighed as his friends began bickering between themselves over his financial inheritance. Today was most definitely a bad day.
A loud honking brought their attention to outside, and everyone attending the hearing went outside to investigate. A rusty old truck was slowly wheeling its way out of the garage, and even from the distance the people could identify the occupants of the vehicle. Sara sat in the driver's seat, while two identical twins–Sonya assumed that they were Madison and Meredith–sat in the other seats.
"What the hell are they doing?" Stryker frowned, and he stepped off the porch.
What Stryker didn't know was that his youngest sister was hardly a skilled driver. He was informed quite effectively when she stepped on the gas pedal and the car rammed into him, sending him flying ten feet into a rhododendron bush.
Everyone flinched and peeked from behind their hands or arms. The Defenders did more than that, twisting their wrists so they could check their watches. "Two hours, thirty-one minutes and–if I'm not mistaken–seventeen seconds," Nightwolf whistled. "Sonya wins."
The Lieutenant smiled. First I'm made the wife of a millionaire, and now I've won a bet worth $300. Today was most definitely a good day. Thank God for Aunt Lucy and her ESP.
Now if I can only get her to stop telling Mom and Dad whenever I meet someone new. . . .