Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
Chapter 19: Salad Days III
"– substantive and perfectly summarises the system of laws that were in place prior to the realm being conquered by Shao Kahn. I have referred to Huēhuehtlahtōlli throughout the entirety of my reign, although I dare say that in terms of developing a code of conduct, some of the rules that the text outlines can be considered inadaptable in this day and age. Nevertheless, there are ones that form a solid foundation for the laws that I desire to implement. One should always keep an open mind to the reasonings of the ancients, after all – do you agree, Jin?"
Kung Jin gave yet another nod. As Kotal Kahn continued to ramble, the Shaolin monk fought the urge to yawn. As much as he enjoyed talking about books in general, this particular discussion was far from exciting, and the emperor was certainly not helping.
Geez, talk about lacklustre. I can just picture Cassie saying: "For a guy who calls himself a Sun God, he's got f***-all fire."
Still, it does sound like an interesting text … bet it's more exciting to read than hearing the Kahn droning about it, though. Better make sure that I look like I'm paying attention, otherwise he might find an excuse to get into another fight with Kitana and Liu Kang …
Once again mentally cursing Raiden for putting him in this situation, Jin subtlety shifted his bored gaze to where the revenants sat together. His eyes fell upon Kung Lao – who ate his salad in silence – and he issued a soft sigh. Oh, how he badly wanted to speak to his cousin, to talk to him about all the things that happened from the time the older Kung fell in battle, to when the younger Kung helped to save Earthrealm all those weeks ago; to interrogate him about his life in the Netherrealm under the influence of Quan Chi's sorcery; to open up to him about the struggles that their family had undergone over the past several years –
Jin's thoughts stopped short.
I'll have to think carefully about that last one. I don't want to overwhelm him by bringing up my past thieving stint. At least, not yet.
But he told me in the foyer earlier that he wanted to speak to me about something …
For the life of him, Jin could not imagine what Lao so desperately wanted to tell him – in private, he had stressed – before Liu Kang unceremoniously called him away. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Lao beg.
"Táng di, please, we must talk …"
Lao táng gē, what's going on?
Suddenly, the voice of Jax Briggs boomed in his ears. With a grimace, the Shaolin monk leaned forward in his chair as the retired major and his daughter, Jacqui, exchanged heated words over both him and Takahashi Takeda, who looked akin to a picnic blanket for all the reds and whites that his face was turning.
Elder Gods, take me now, the telepath's woebegone voice rung inside Jin's mind. Why can't Dad just stop getting me into trouble with Mr Briggs? I'd rather he'd disown me instead of getting me outright killed.
Jin shook his head.
Sorry, Tack. I guess this is what happens when you have a s***-stirrer for a dad. As for Mr Briggs … well, I suppose an overprotective father is nearly always part of the dating package deal.
His friend groaned.
Oh wow, you're definitely making me feel so much better! Seriously, Jin, don't you have anything nice to say to me? I'd prefer to hear it right now instead of you saying them at my funeral – if Mr Briggs had his way, he'd have me in a coffin before the main course. And he'd make sure that Ermac is buried with me.
The monk just shrugged as he responded: At least you're all set to be buried, since you're already wearing a suit.
Takeda's reply was ice-cold: I hate you.
Love you, too, bro, Jin thought back, swallowing a chuckle. Don't let Mr Briggs wreck your ass too much – you don't want to disappoint Jacqui on your honeymoon one day.
Ignoring the expletives that filled his head, Jin praised the heavens above when Jax and Jacqui finally fell quiet. Both father and daughter turned their attention back to their food, their expressions tight with frustration and annoyance. Under his breath, the military veteran muttered some choice words about the "no-good, trouble-making, geeky-ass" telepath (whose cursing faded away into silence at the same time). Meanwhile, the specialist angrily attacked a piece of chicken as similar grumblings passed her lips.
Giving her a sympathetic look, Jin looked to his front once more: Kotal Kahn was still babbling on about the blasted book. Raiden was too occupied with talking to Sonya Blade to partake in the discussion. Reptile, however, appeared to be paying attention, but a thin layer of disinterest clouded his entire face. His eyes also held glints of repulsion. The more Kotal Kahn rambled on to Jin, the stronger the glints grew. Clearly, neither book-talk nor engaging the Earthrealmers in conversation were up the Zaterran's alley.
The same thing could be said for his comrade, Erron Black, who was too busy looking incredibly done for this life to give a single damn about anything. In the same way that a cow chewed its cud, he ate his food at a sluggish pace, while his eyes were barely focusing on his plate. He grunted as he struggled to spoon up some lettuce leaves and parsley. Then, uttering a vague curse under his breath, the gunslinger abandoned his efforts and let the utensil drop from his fingers. An offended look passed over his face as it clanged against the foot of his wine glass.
"Oh, go on down to hell, you darn spoon," he grumbled, attempting to pick it up, only for it to drop again.
Jin stared at Erron in disbelief. By the Elder Gods, Black, if you can't even hold a spoon properly after all these years, then Shang Tsung really wasted his sorcery on you.
One blink later, and the stare became thoughtful.
Well, not entirely …
"– whereby implementation with the consent of those living within the realm is vital. Would you not agree, Jin?"
"Hmm?" Jin was pulled out of his thoughts. He shifted his eyes from the former Earthrealmer to Kotal Kahn, who looked expectantly at him. "Oh, er, yes, Emperor, I think that's very important. Governed citizens ought to have a say and have their voices heard."
Kotal Kahn beamed. "Ah, mimati. If your Shaolin brethren are as knowledgeable as you, then I am confident about leaving the entirety of the palace library's contents in their hands."
Through a mouthful of food, Erron emitted what sounded like a snort. Again, Jin turned to look at him, his mouth morphing into a small grin.
"I'm sorry, Black, I didn't realise you were into book-talk as well," he innocently remarked. "What kind of books do you like to read? Silver-fork novels, perhaps?"
The Outworld cowboy, whose lips happened to be pursed tightly around the prongs of a fork, frowned as he pulled the cutlery out.
"I don't have time to read," he snippily answered.
Jin could believe that. Judging by the look on the Kahn's face, it seemed as if he could believe that, too.
"A great pity, Erron," the latter said, a note of disdain in his voice. "I suppose your duties and, uh, other activities keep you from indulging in literature. Still, I encourage you to do so in your free time. It would do you well to broaden your horizons."
"My horizons are broad enough, Emperor, thank you," his employee replied with some heat. His azure-blue eyes, dulled by a slight fuzzy haze, looked back at him from his glass as he took hold of it. His speech was a bit thick, yet at the same time sounded so distant. "I've been to many places in my life … I've seen and heard plenty of things that you can't get from pushin' your nose into any crummy old book."
His pitch dipped deeper as his pace slowed further. "Me, I much prefer listening to stories, if you've got 'em. That's only if they're interesting enough to be worth my time and maybe if there's something to gain from it. Just feelin' like I'm there, watching the story unfold before my eyes as I hear it, and living in the moment as they're spoken … yeah, that's more my thing."
Jin tilted his head to the side, absorbing this unexpected piece of information. He cleared his throat.
"So … you like oral, then?" he asked. "Oral storytelling, that is."
"Don't have to get technical, but yeah," Erron airily replied, taking a long sip.
Okay, Jin could get that. Personally, he preferred the solitude, fulfilment and comfort that a written volume could bring, but he also could appreciate the beauty of stories being told out loud. Still, it boggled his mind a little that Erron "Miserable Mystery Man" Black chose to reveal such a personal fact about himself in so open a manner.
First the oranges, now this. This isn't his style – not that he has much style going for him, but still. Wonder what else he's gonna spout next …?
Tap-tap-tap-tap-TAP!
"'Scuse me once again, folks! 'Scuse me!"
Startled from his thoughts, Jin and his fellow guests – who ceased talking – turned to look at Johnny Cage, who seemed very excited. Raiden frowned at him.
"Johnny, is there something the matter?" he asked.
"Hope you don't mind, Raimundo, but I've had a request to tell a little story about yours truly," was the actor's response. "I thought it would be a great idea to share it with the rest of you!"
"Oh God," Jin heard Sonya groan. "Don't do it, Cage."
But Johnny went on: "I won't take up too much time. Five minutes, I promise. That'll be enough time before we get to the mains."
Jin raised his eyebrows. Knowing Mr Cage, he'll probably go on until it's past everyone's bedtime.
Evidently, Raiden was not enthusiastic, either. "I – well, that is awfully thoughtful of you, Johnny, but –"
"Alright, then let's get into it," Johnny declared, clapping his hands with a grin. "From the Page of Cage, between screen and stage, a story of mine from a young ol' age! So just sit back, relax, and let me work my Cagetastic magic."
"Jeeeesus, take me now," Jin heard Erron mutter. The monk watched as the former Earthrealmer tipped his glass back, gulping audibly as the wine slid down his throat. When he was done, he precariously set his near-empty glass down. His lips, wet with fluid, were curved downwards, while his eyes were hazier than before as they settled upon Johnny.
Well, Black, you said that you liked listening to stories – now you've got one. And it sounds like a real Cage-sponsored doozy.
Elder Gods have mercy on us all …
It was anybody's guess as to why Johnny Cage thought this was the appropriate time and place to tell this particular story.
Perhaps it came down to a combination of factors: one, that Johnny was getting bored, and was subsequently getting restless as the night progressed. Sure, there were two or three instances during the dinner when it became a bit dramatic (Smoke was among the prime culprits behind these sorely brief moments), but otherwise his need for excitement was so far unfulfilled. Although he thought he was doing a pretty good job at being on his best behaviour, a part of him knew that it was not going to last forever. Certainly not when several of the guests were practically begging to be joshed to filth (Kotal Kahn came to mind immediately).
Two, that his egotism got the better of him. When Liu Kang requested him to recount an anecdote, Johnny was pleased at the attention he was given. Indeed, as everyone else turned to look and listen to him, a glow that only vanity could produce lit up his entire form. He could feel the actor in him coming out, taking to the stage in front of an adoring audience, aiming to entertain them in exchange for rapture and applause. If they were going to get the full Johnny Cage experience, then by the Elder Gods, he was going to give them just that.
And three … well, he thought this story was funny. That was basically it.
Even though it was about to be told at his own expense, Johnny was not shy about being a little self-deprecating.
Someone's gotta liven this joint up. And I'll clown myself just this one time to do it.
Clearing his throat loudly, Johnny slowly cast his eyes around the table. Then, flashing them all his world-famous smile, he began his tale:
"So, some of you might be surprised to know that your boy Johnny had himself a college stint. Oh yeah, it's true. I studied at this neat little place near home, got my diploma after a couple of years, and shoved off to Hollywood afterwards. When I wasn't partying, chilling with my folks at home or, you know, actually attending lectures, I kept myself occupied with my martial arts training. I even dabbled in some college acting classes on the side – and you can best believe I was a natural at both."
("F***, he wishes," Jax muttered to himself.)
"Anyhoo," Johnny continued, having paused to eat a mouthful of salad, "during my second year – when college was closed for the first semester vacation – a friend of mine who regularly hung out with me at the campus gym asked me if I was interested in working at an event. He reckoned that we'd only be there for about an hour or so, and that we'd make a nice amount of money for our troubles. I thought to myself, 'Eh, I've got nothing better to do. And if it means bagging big bucks for only a night's work, I'm all for it.' So I told him, 'Sure, I'll do it. When's the event?'
"He said, 'It's tomorrow night.'
"'Tomorrow night!' I practically yelled. 'Dude, that's way too soon. What kind of event is it, anyway?'
"'It's just a fundraiser down at the Oakwood Rec Centre. They're gonna have a whole lotta people providing the entertainment – we're talking singers, dancers, magic acts, all that kinda stuff. The organiser is going all out for this event, and he's shelling out a ton of cash to make it as big as possible.'
"I had to admit, this fundraiser sounded fun, and the organiser seemed like a pretty important guy – the kind you want to hobnob with when you're climbing the showbiz ladder. So I said, 'Okay, so what exactly will we be doing? Are we gonna be waiters? Doing promo work? Washing dishes? C'mon, dude, what're we doing?'
"My friend just shuffled his feet before he replied: 'I gotta be honest with you, Johnny – we're gonna be one of the entertainment acts.'
"I was shocked – like, the kind of shocked you feel when you find out that Joker has more Excellence Award nominations than Little Women. I said to him, 'What?! Us on a stage in front of people? In less than 24 hours?! That's insane! What the hell kind of act are you even planning to do?'
Here, Johnny paused, the silence lasting for all of three seconds.
"I'll never forget," he murmured in a theatrical timbre, "that moment when he looked me dead in the eyes and answered, 'A strip act.'"
If no one was paying attention to the story before, they were now.
The sound of cutlery clanging against plates rung around the room as everyone at the table stared at Johnny with eyes as wide as softballs, and their mouths hanging open in surprise.
"A strip act?" Takahashi Kenshi repeated incredulously. "Johnny, you didn't …!"
"Hold up, we're getting ahead of the story now," the actor playfully scolded him. "Give me a chance to explain real quick –"
"Strip?" Kotal Kahn was the personification of astonishment as he spoke. "You – you mean to say, the act of taking one's clothes off? For entertainment?"
Raiden, his complexion taking on a chalky hue, sat up straighter in his chair as he spluttered, "Johnny, this is not –"
"Oh yeah, Emperor, that kind of thing," Johnny answered, cutting the Thunder God short. "You can imagine how stunned I was at that moment. I was literally speechless … except for the part where I told my friend to bounce or I'd knock his teeth down to the inside of his underwear. And trust me, no self-respecting patron is gonna chance tipping him off if his choppers are poking out over his speedo.
"'You've gotta help me, Johnny,' he begged. 'The guy who was supposed to do the act with me backed out at the last minute. We already signed a contract and everything; the organiser won't pay out a dime if we don't perform. Please, dude, I promise you'll score a mint if you do it.'
"'Why me, though?'
"'Because you look the part, and I bet you'd be able to learn the basic moves quickly – just pretend that it's like doing martial arts or something, but, uh, sexier. 'Sides, a couple of the guys at the gym passed on it, so you're basically my only hope.'"
"Er, Johnny, I'm not entirely sure this is –" a flustered Grandmaster Kuai Liang started, but the actor steamrolled ahead:
"Well, after giving it some serious thought, I told him, 'Alright, you've convinced me. I'll do it, but you better come through with the cash afterwards.' So, my friend and I spent about an hour that Thursday evening going over this routine that he cooked up. Dead simple moves, too – a hip wiggle here, a back dip there, and a bit of what they call a 'chair-y pop'. I was confident that I was gonna remember 'em by the next night.
"So Friday night comes along, and we rock up at the rec centre an hour before our performance. The indoor basketball court looked like a proper show venue that night – round tables, snazzy décor, bright lighting, gourmet food, you name it. They even had this gigantic stage installed for the entertainment. The organiser was in the audience, and you can tell from just his diamond-encrusted tie clip that he was a bigshot. I knew we couldn't afford to make any kind of mistake in front of him … but of course, something just had to go wrong.
"And so there we were, in this impromptu dressing room in the hallway – my friend had brought the outfits and the, ahem, undergarments. But right in the middle of getting undressed, he tells me, 'I forgot the baby oil, Johnny.'
"Now, for those of you who don't know, baby oil is one of those items that should form part of any and all strippers' starter kits. Adds a little glisten and glow to the skin, y'know. It also helps if you're working with a pole in your act. Anyway, I replied, 'Dude, how can you forget the baby oil? I thought you were a pro at this!'
"'I've only stripped a couple of times at sorority parties. Usually the guy I work with brings the oil.'
"'So what are we gonna do? Go out there looking like dry bananas?'
"My friend reckoned he could ask around for baby oil, so he ducked out of the room for a couple of minutes. Then he came back with this greasy brown bottle, and I could tell right off the bat that it was not baby oil at all. I asked him point-blank, 'What is that?'
"He answered, 'It's fish oil. I borrowed it from the kitchen.'
"'Ew, gross!' I replied. 'I'm not slathering fish oil on my body! Catch of the day, I might be, but I sure as hell don't want to smell like it.'
"'It's the only option we've got.'
"Our performance was beginning in 10 minutes, and it would only take an hour to pull off our routine: 15 minutes for the opener, 15 minutes apiece for solos, and the last 15 minutes for the finisher. I thought to myself, 'Okay, Johnny, the sooner the hour is up, the sooner you can get paid, go home, and never have to think about this night ever again.' With that in mind, I told my friend, 'Alright, let's get oiled up and go.'
"Folks, I regretted saying that so much. The fish oil was absolutely disgusting; it was like I was getting covered in olive oil, but a hundred times smellier. It stuck to my skin like how someone's B.O. sticks to your clothes when they hug you. I could feel it soaking into my outfit as I put it on – I might as well have been dressing myself up in napkins. Soon enough, both of us were ready, and then once the Swedish musician's tribute act before us was finished, we took to the stage."
At this point, Johnny shuddered involuntarily.
"God, it was awful. Standing up there and looking at the audience, I could see that virtually half of them were oldies. I later learnt that they were members of a culture club from a local old age home. The thought of grinding my hips into one of their faces and giving them a heart attack in the process freaked me out something fierce.
"When the performance began, I couldn't tell who was more nervous: me, or my friend. Either I was too slow, or he was going way too fast. Like, I would be throwing my crotch out while he'd be wriggling his backside. Needless to say, we were not in sync." A pause. "And after five minutes of moving and gyrating, I was already pooped. Not to mention I was getting hot under the stage lights. And what with the heat and the oil …"
"Oh no," Master Hanzo Hasashi murmured, his eyes widening in realisation.
Johnny nodded. "If the oil was rotten before, it was beyond rancid at that moment. By the time we finished the opener, the air in the entire room smelt like fish."
Kitana's hand covered her mouth. "Elder Gods, no …"
"It got worse during my friend's solo," the actor continued. "When he whipped off his faux jacket and shirt, and he swung it around above his head like a helicopter, I swear that I saw drops of oil flying off and hitting the people sitting in the front. And it wasn't a pretty picture when he tried to twerk, 'cause you could see the stuff trickling down his butt-cheeks. It was like watching runny syrup on a flat pancake."
"Jesus ever-loving Christ," groaned Jax, revolted.
"I wish I could say that my solo was better, but it wasn't," admitted Johnny, the memories coming into his mind swift and relentless. "The oil made it hard for me to unbutton and pull off my clothes, and it dripped all over the place. I nearly slipped while trying to do a one-armed push-up on the ground. Then came the part in my routine where I was going to do a lap dance –"
"Good grief, a lap dance as well?!" exclaimed Kung Lao.
Johnny nodded again. "Just a short, interactive number to finish off the routine. Thank goodness this sturdy, middle-aged nurse from the old age home was sitting in front, otherwise I'd be straddling someone's granny all the way to the emergency room. So I hopped off the stage, in nothing but a tux-themed speedo, and I did a quick chair-y pop on her before I sat down on her knees."
Another pause, another shudder.
Liu Kang, against his better judgement, dared to ask: "What happened next?"
Johnny looked as sheepish as a lamb.
"I slipped off and fell backwards," he answered.
Everyone gaped at him in abject horror.
"Dear Lord," Kenshi uttered. "And the nurse?"
"She nearly fell on top of me!"
"Dear Lord," the swordsman repeated in sheer disbelief.
Another spoonful of salad was swallowed before Johnny went on: "We didn't even make it to the last 15 minutes, because the organiser stopped the act right then and there. He booted us from the rec centre without paying us a single cent. We tried to plead our case, but he was having none of it: 'You're lucky I didn't call the cops on you amateur clowns if anyone got hurt. Get out!' You can bet I was angry about the whole fiasco, especially about being called an 'amateur clown', but all I wanted at that moment – apart from the money – was to go home. So there we were in my friend's car, driving through suburbia in our stripper undies. We nearly got caught up in a police roadblock, and I literally had visions of me in jail, wearing nothing but a black-and-white prison shirt to match my speedo.
"Luckily, my friend's driving skills were good for something. He told me that he used to pick up stripper gal-pals of his to and from their gigs, so he knew exactly how to dodge the cops. I just replied, 'All those strippers in a car, and not one of 'em left behind a bottle of baby oil? Please change your day-job immediately.'
"Not long afterwards, he dropped me off at home. I was so beat, the moment I got inside my bedroom, I flopped onto the bed and fell asleep. Big mistake. Later the next morning, I woke up with this wicked, deep-sea smell in my nose. The fish oil was sticky and hard on my skin, and it got onto my blanket, pillowcases and sheet while I slept, making them all pasty and rank.
"I spent a good 20 minutes or so in the shower scrubbing the stuff off. As for my bedding, I loaded it all into the washing machine. It didn't half raise my mom's suspicions, though. She had just come back from the hairdresser – Mama Carlton always went to get her hair done every Saturday without fail. I swear on my life, when she saw me pulling my wet bedding from the washing machine and stuffing 'em into the tumble dryer, her perm deflated just like that. 'Because you know, John,' she said to me, 'the only time a boy changes his sheets is when he's done mastu –'"
"Johnny!" Sonya suddenly and loudly hissed. Her reddening features were drawn tight once again. "Not at the dinner table!"
"Oh right, sorry, I forgot to keep it PG there for a second," Johnny airily apologised, although his mouth twisted into a bright smile. "Long story short, I didn't tell Mom about the strip act ('cause God knows she would have doused me in fish oil and set me on fire), I never ever got paid, and I stopped speaking to my friend for like, two weeks, until he bought me a ticket to see some Sharon Stone flick. I never took to stripping again. It's more hassle and oily than what it's worth, so you certainly won't find me in a Magic Mike sequel any time soon."
He leaned back in his chair with the air of an actor who was satisfied with what he thought was a performance well done.
"On that note, folks," he hammily proclaimed, "that concludes the story about yours truly, straight from the Page of Cage. Thanks for listening, and who knows? The next time we're together again, perhaps I might just tell another!"
Silence once again reigned in the dining room that evening, seemingly heavier than the last. Astonishment, discomfort and disbelief were among the various shades of confusion that coloured everyone else's faces … all except for Sonya, whose expression was unreadable, although the flashing of her eyes hinted at something strong that simmered beneath the stony surface.
After what seemed like an uncomfortable eternity, Raiden – his complexion red and bright for all to see – shifted in his seat as he weakly cleared his throat.
"T-thank you, Johnny, for, uh, sharing your, er, story," he spluttered. "It was … was … quite extraordinary."
"You're welcome, Rainaldo," chirped Johnny, giving him a wink.
Swallowing, the Thunder God cleared his throat again, trying to keep himself composed as he beheld his guests.
"I do believe that it is time for the main course," he said, a small tremble underlying his voice. "Yes, I – I do believe that it is so. Did everyone enjoy the salad?"
Even if the stunned guests were capable of replying, Raiden never gave them a chance, for he hastily called out a command to the monks in the kitchen. Almost violently, he nodded at the musicians (whose music stopped playing a few minutes ago as Johnny's story unfolded). Jolted from their daze, they were once again playing, albeit in a strained fashion.
Blinking a few times as the music resumed, Kung Jin drew in a deep breath as he turned to his front. He stared directly at Erron Black, the shadow of a smirk appearing on his lips.
"I hope you gained something from that story, Black," he murmured.
Over the brim of his glass, Erron regarded him through bleary, half-lidded eyes.
"Yeah," he replied. "If I ever need baby oil, I'll borrow some from you, Junior."
The archer aimed an ugly scowl at him. "It's Jin."
Prick, he thought.
The gunslinger gulped down the remains of his wine. "Whatever, Junior."
Asshole, he thought.
Ah, a match made in heaven, Takahashi Takeda chuckled within Jin's head as he read their minds.
His friend glared at him. What the hell are you talking about?
The telepath grinned. Nothing. So, Mr Cage as a stripper, huh? Can you imagine –
Nope. Jin turned away, summoning all the strength that he had to prevent unwanted images of the ageing actor, drenched in fish oil and gyrating near-naked on a stage, from entering his thoughts.
With my luck, I'll be having nightmares about it for the next few days.
Then again, it's sorta better than being Cassie right about now …
"How was that, Liu Kang?" asked Johnny, crossing his arms behind his head. "Did you like my entertaining spiel?"
Liu Kang, trying his best to avoid glancing at a fuming Kitana, gulped as he looked at his former comrade. A wobbly smile slowly appeared.
"I – uh, er – I agree with Raiden for once," he answered, gulping again. "It was very, um … extraordinary."
"Glad to hear it, bubba. I take it from your silence, Kitana and company, that you also enjoyed it? Yeah? … Okay, I'll take your lack of speech as a sign of agreement. Let me know if you want to hear another one before this dinner is over."
Turning to his left, Johnny's sunny smile dimmed somewhat as he looked at Cassie Cage, whose pink-tinged face bore a rigid frown that her grandmother would have been proud of. He groaned.
"Oh God, I did it again, didn't I?" he whispered.
Cassie narrowed her eyes. "No s***, Dad."
Johnny was apologetic as he pressed his palm against his forehead. "Sorry, punkin. You definitely have my permission to kick my ass later."
The pink tinge grew darker. "I wasn't even gonna wait for your permission, and I'd rather kick more than your ass right now."
"Believe you me, Cass, you definitely earned that right. I thought I was being helpful; my intention wasn't to embarrass you. By the way, did you hear your mother calling –"
"Intentionally or not, telling everyone that you were a one-time stripper is embarrassing. What the hell possessed you to tell it? And who the actual frick was this dumbass friend of yours?!"
Her father hesitated before he answered in a low voice:
"It was your Uncle Brad."
Cassie's nose wrinkled in surprise, then in disgust. "Uncle Brad? Our Brad?"
The actor nodded.
Next to Cassie, Jacqui – who happened to be listening in on their conversation – felt her eyes widening.
"Uncle Brad?" she whispered excitedly. "You don't mean –"
"Oh yeah, him," Johnny nodded again, grinning in spite of himself. "I always bring this story up when he gets overly cocky, or if I want free movie tickets. I'm still waiting for him to send me comps to Once Upon a – hello, I've got a text message."
Turning away from the girls, Johnny whipped out his cellphone, which had pinged in his jacket pocket at the same moment that the monks flew in from the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat when he saw whose name was on the screen:
Sonya.
Johnny glanced up at the general, who was busy smoothing the material of her dress that was pressed against her right thigh. He was sure that her cellphone, along with (ahem) one or two other items that she brought in case of an emergency, was concealed in that area.
Aren't they lucky? he thought to himself with a widening mouth as he tapped the screen to open the message.
How quickly his grin disappeared when he read the following words that all couples, current and past, dreaded the most:
We need to talk.
"Will you not finish your food, Hanzo?"
"After hearing Cage's so-called story? My appetite has become non-existent, no thanks to him."
Grandmaster Kuai Liang clucked his tongue as a monk took his plate. "I am sure it will return once the main course has been served."
His Shirai Ryu counterpart sighed, quietly replying: "If our esteemed friend dares to continue at this rate, then I will have plenty of leftovers to take home with me."
He nodded at the monk who stood with his plate – on which half a portion of salad lay uneaten – in his hands. "Yes, you can put it aside for me, please."
"What a complete waste of food."
Hanzo was startled by the dark hiss that emanated from the other side of the table. Turning forward, his heart lurched in his chest when his eyes met two scorching eyeballs.
"I beg your pardon?" he calmly asked.
Smoke's arms were folded across his chest as he glowered at the other man. The blaze in his orbs crackled and burned in abandon.
"If I were Raiden, I would be insulted that you did not deign to finish your meal," he answered. "All that preparation and effort, and for what? To be bundled up as if it were somebody's common rubbish."
Hanzo stiffened; Kuai frowned at the revenant.
"Tomas …" the cryomancer cautioned, his low voice bordering on a rumble.
Kung Lao, catching the shocked glances of Liu Kang and Kitana, was more verbal with his warning: "Mind what you say, Smoke."
Feeling the twinge twisting and turning in his chest once more, Hanzo dared himself to keep looking at Smoke.
"I would never –" he started, but the former Lin Kuei never let him finish.
"Frankly, I do not see the point of you eating at all," he coldly uttered. "I was not aware that vengeful demons hungered for ordinary food. They are more likely to feed upon the suffering of others in order to sate their appetite … yes, that is so, and they would tear through no end of innocent flesh and spill ample amounts of blood for –"
BANG!
"Tomas, that is enough!" exclaimed Kuai, his fist slamming into the table.
The impact made it shake from end to end, with the cutlery and glasses shaking and clanking loudly as a result. Alarmed out of their wits, the guests peered at the Lin Kuei clansman: his entire visage was replete with indignation, an emotion that looked out of place on someone known for their patient, benevolent nature. His teeth were bared, and his eyes had taken on a sharpness that no icicle in existence could compete with.
"That is enough," he repeated.
Lowly. Slowly. Dangerously.
Smoke said nothing. Instead, his eyes briefly fluttered to Kuai, and, in a lackadaisical manner, he merely shrugged his shoulders.
The Grandmaster's clenched fist grew tighter.
In another place and time, Smoke would have felt fear at seeing Kuai react this way, especially towards him – anger rarely reared its head throughout the course of their friendship. Indeed, if there was any rage shown, it would be directed at a training dummy or, in most recent circumstances, some other person. Neither took issue with each other if they could help it.
But now, sitting on the other side of the table, the vapour-haired revenant felt no fear whatsoever.
Nor did he feel any ounce of shame as he watched Scorpion, once the deadliest, most frightening being to inhabit the Netherrealm, one who showed no mercy as he brought others to their knees for his own selfish gains …
… oh, how he laughed at this …
… shivering in his seat like a little child.
A/N: That part about Johnny and "Uncle Brad" using fish oil in their strip act? Yeah, that's based on a true story. XD
Huēhuehtlahtōlli = "Sayings of the ancients"; Táng di = "Younger, male cousin (on father's side)"; Táng gē = "Older, male cousin (on father's side)"; Mimati = "He is intelligent."
Guest: Thank you very much! I'm sure this chapter answered your question about the fish oil. XP You gotta love all the MK dads (I know I do), although goodness knows how Cassie, Takeda and Jacqui cope with theirs. Unfortunately, Jax is not quite done with Ermac just yet (nor with his future son-in-law). I'm surprised they haven't left the dinner already before he gets his hands on them. O_O;;
LoveLovers: Thank you, hun, same to you! :D The souls will certainly have much more to say in the future chapters, and you can believe that they will try to force Ermac to stay away from Kenshi – poor guy, he just wants to be friends with 'Mac ... or does he?. :o And yes, Johnny is definitely the guy to make everything calm/tense. Unfortunately, I think he made it a bit chaotic for everyone this time around. Sonya and Cassie are NOT impressed. X')
I hope you enjoyed JC's anecdote (or at least survived the embarrassment of it all). And I'm thrilled you're loving the interactions between Subby/Scorpy and Ermac/Kenshi. Too bad Smoke had to go and spoil everything. Poor Hanzo. Poor everyone. Have a good day, friend, and stay well!
Revenant Nonny: Thank you, sweets, and same to you as well! Gosh, your summaries probably make more sense than the actual chapters. XD Indeed, Jax is not about to let Ermac off the hook that easily, and I do believe they're going to have a not-so-pleasant encounter in the near future if the situation gets any more tense. Kenshi deserves all the gold in the world for what Ermac's souls are saying about him and the other timeline ... but who knows? They might be right ...? O_O;;
Aw, glad you enjoyed Grandma Carlton! I did take a little leaf out of The Golden Girls' handbook, but she's also kinda based on some older women I know, and the stuff they say. That rat-tails comment from the last chapter was said to a female cousin of mine. XD Maybe one day there will be a oneshot about Johnny's mother, bless her cotton socks. As you can tell from this chapter, JC's story has filled Liu Kang with lots of regret indeed (Kuai's too busy with Smoke to even feel regret). Poor Sonya and poor Cassie - I hope Raiden has a spare couch for Johnny to sleep on when he needs to go into hiding. Hope you enjoy this chapter (and survived Johnny's story); I wish I could have added more Erron-Jin banter, but there'll be plenty chapters for it soon (baby oil, geez). And yes, Takeda, Jacqui and Ermac (and especially Hanzo) need lots of protection for the nonsense I'm putting them through. T_T
A few more notes: shout-out to the hilarious CidLover1 for coining the nickname "Rainaldo"! And oh dear, Johnny and Hanzo are in some trouble now. They won't be the only ones come the main course, which promises to be meaty (hint: butterflies and plenty of salt).
Reviews are welcome!
*~AI07!*