Bondage
by Nyohah
13
Rules of the Game
Seventh Day of Mortal Kombat
Spotless white walls reflected images of families without hope, nurses scurrying about, doctors breaking bad news to their patient's loved ones. The atmosphere felt of sickness and sorrow. This was a section of the hospital that filled one with dread, reserved for those who had only the slightest chance of survival.
In the corner of one room, a woman in a simple white dress rested her head on a table. Her thick black braid was slowly unraveling, a glass of water sat by, untouched.
Smoke was unsure if she was sleeping, dozing, or if she had run out of tears and the will to move. He hadn't seen her so despairing since The Fleeing.
Her younger son was in this cursed section of the hospital, his chance of survival stated by the most knowledgeable doctors to be somewhere in the area of approximately zero. Yuan was only five, his mother's precious baby. It was a shame to see any young person's life wilting away, and they'd had such high hopes for the boy, especially if his rising brother's talent was any kind of indicator of what the child was capable of. Yuan had also proved himself to be unusually intelligent. He rarely spoke; in fact, he had been nearly four before even Smoke was sure if the boy could talk, but everything he did say amazed those who heard him with its originality and rationality.
Unfortunately, the fact that the boy was so much different than everyone else had also caused the others in town to fear and dislike him, spreading rumors that he was 'not all there'. Of course, it hadn't helped that his parents were not very well liked people, his mother especially...
She refused to let him go, though everyone else accepted that the boy would surely die. She had barely left his side for a moment, for the months since he'd first fallen ill. The woman's husband had left Smoke behind to watch over them, meaning more his wife than his son, as he had a job to attend to. He caught himself staring at the disheveled woman—so much like his wife, and yet, so very not her. He missed her incredibly, as he did his daughters...
Smoke glanced over to the bed. The child lay there, very small, and very pale, sleeping, with numerous wires trailing from his curled body, monitoring his heart, and an oxygen mask helping him to breathe with his damaged lungs. Smoke felt disheartened looking at him. They'd had such high hopes for Yuan, and even if the boy did somehow survive this, he would probably never be truly well again...
Smoke gradually became aware of the soft bed he was lying on, the unyielding hospital chair of the past fading away.
He forced himself out of bed; they had a lot of work to do. A slight woman was still sleeping on the opposite side of the bed, and, his brain still foggy from sleep, it took him a moment to realize this was his daughter, not his long-lost wife.
Yuan had been elected to sleep on the couch. He was also still asleep—hanging more off the couch than on it. He had always been a strange child.
Looking at the young ninja, Smoke's thoughts turned back to the odd flashback he'd had for a dream. How the boy had survived was a mystery. One day, his condition miraculously began improving. He was back home within a month. Of course, he'd also survived the robe's poisoning in Hong Kong somehow, and Smoke would not believe for a minute that he did it all with whatever formula he'd discovered as he claimed. An Act of God, perhaps. But why? "Are you trying to tell me something?" he asked aloud.
"Did you say something?" Yuan looked up sleepily, and his slight shift of balance caused him to topple off the couch, thudding on the floor, where he sat for a few seconds, still more asleep than awake.
"You might as well get up now," Smoke said.
Yuan made a face and placed his hand on his rib cage. He coughed, closing his eyes in pain. "Why'd you have to wake me up?" He began to cough more violently as he all but ran to the bathroom.
"What's he doing?" asked Ching from behind her father, startling him.
"He doesn't want to get blood on your floor."
"And here I thought he was exaggerating."
"His lungs were never very healthy since he was sick as a child, and while he had gotten a lot better by the time he graduated from high school—and you met him—the robe's poisoning only made it worse than it had ever been." He shook his head, trying to clear the thought that he was missing something, and then changed the subject. "Are you clear on blocking necromantic power, or shall we go over it again?"
"More practice never hurt anyone," Ching conceded, and they headed for the training room. Smoke began to again outline the necessary mental techniques needed in order to resist Shang Tsung's power, and help to perfect the Mandalorian stances and movements that helped get one into the right mind set, though they weren't necessary after mastery of the techniques.
Sometime later, Yuan entered, still pressing his arm against his rib cage and again using his inhaler. "I seem to be having a rather wretched respiratory day," he announced, hardly fazed by his pain. "Having fun?" he asked Ching.
"It's actually rather calming," she said, stretching her leg up in front of her.
"Yeah, it's kind of like Tai Chi."
"It's a lot like Tai Chi," agreed Ching.
"Battle Tai Chi," said Yuan and he began to do the traditional style at triple speed.
"Can't you be normal for once in your life?"
The ninja stopped. "But normal is boring." Then he winced and sank to the ground. "It's a good thing this didn't happen until a day I didn't have to fight. I probably would have choked on my own blood or something in the middle of a match, and then Shang Tsung would get mad again because I died without being bea—"
"Okay. That's enough." Ching switched positions, widening her stance and raising one arm. Smoke patiently corrected her. "So what do you usually do on days like this?"
"Not much. My mom gives me a hug and I sleep if I'm in a place that I can."
"You act like such a child sometimes."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't really know." As she spun like a dancer and raised one leg up behind her, she lost her balance and nearly fell.
Smoke scolded, "Concentration."
Liu Kang crossed his arms with disdain. "Well Kitana, it seems your clone is not as reliable as she claims to be."
"Jade would never betray us." Kitana narrowed her eyes, meeting Kang's glare.
They had been at it for nearly an hour. Kung Lao was beginning to worry that there was going to be an unscheduled fight that day. Jade was sitting in the corner, her head down, completely lifeless. She hadn't moved, throughout all of Liu Kang's veiled insults, or Kitana's increasingly irate replies. If only this Smoke would show up. With the rules.
Interrupting fights and thoughts, an unfamiliar person walked in. He was Oriental, dressed in a nondescript Mandarin style black fighting outfit. He sat by Kung Lao, who gave him a strange look before commenting. "Do I know you?"
"I'm hurt," he protested, melodramatically scrunching up his face. "All I am to you is a walking ninja's uniform."
"Sub-Zero?"
"'Tis I."
"Why aren't you wearing your uniform?" Kung Lao continued.
"Am I not allowed to change my clothes? Besides I got sick of that uniform. I don't even like being Lin Kuei."
"You shouldn't declare that to the world," said Ching walking into the arena, "It might get out and then you'll have you and your family's lives to worry about."
Yuan smiled at her sudden appearance. "Where's your dad?" he asked noticing, Smoke's absence.
"He doesn't want them to know he's here." With a nod of her head she indicated Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn, who seemed to be arguing on the opposite side of the arena.
Ching sat beside Yuan. "Looks like you can sleep now if you're still not feeling well. It doesn't look like they'll be over here anytime soon."
Taking her advice, Yuan shifted his weight, sliding further down in his seat, trying to get at least semi-comfortable. "Ow!" He sat back up again, and pulled a scroll from his waistband, rubbing his lower back.
"Is that...?" Kitana jumped up, snatching the document from Yuan's startled grasp. She unrolled it excitedly, then shouted, "It is!" and shoved the scroll under Liu Kang's nose. "The rules," she declared triumphantly.
Ching turned in her seat, incredulous. "You haven't even given them the rules yet?"
"No," he said quietly. "I forgot. I'm expending all my energy on trying to breathe here. Forgive me?"
"I suppose. Kitana?"
"You got this from Smoke, right?" She still clenched the scroll.
"Yeah. He is, after all, my teacher."
"Well, then, I know someone who has much more need to apologize than you." She glowered at Liu Kang, then beckoned to her right. "Jade, come here."
The green-clad woman unfolded herself, and brushing her long dark hair from her face, joined Kitana. "Now, I think you owe her an apology," said the princess.
"This is insane!" Liu Kang declared.
"All in favor say 'aye'," offered Kung Lao. Everyone did.
The Chosen One gritted his teeth. He was not used to being forced into things. "I'm sorry, Jade. I should have had more faith in you."
"See now, that wasn't so hard." Kitana gave the rules back to Yuan. "I guess you might want this back."
"Yeah, it might help in a few minutes."
"I take it you have a plan, and need to review the rules some more before Tsung gets here."
"Does this mean I can't sleep?"
When Tsung and Kahn finally stopped arguing and started the tournament, they were nearly an hour late. Ignoring the fighters' resenting looks, he started the day with his usual annoyingly happy tone. "Today, we will have a rematch between Sub-Zero and Liu Kang, in the hope of eliminating one last fighter—"
"No." Yuan corrected him. "We will be having a rematch between you and Ching."
Shang Tsung looked dismayed. "You can't do that..." he protested weakly.
Kung Lao voiced his and the others' confusion. "Who's Ching?"
Ignoring him, Yuan held the scroll up for the sorcerer to see. "This look familiar? We can do that. You used power in excess. That is not allowed; therefore, she gets a rematch."
"Tsung, you idiot!" shouted Emperor Kahn. "You've ruined our plans for the last time!"
"Who are you to judge what is excess power?" argued the necromancer, beginning to sweat with the fear of what Kahn was going to do to him if he didn't fix this.
"It is stated very clearly in this document that anything that will affect an opponent for more than ten seconds can only be used after having beaten the person into or nearly into unconsciousness. Ching was hardly losing consciousness. You had landed a single kick. To the stomach. She was clearly winning. You had no right to use controlling power. You owe her a rematch."
Suddenly Tsung's face acquired a sly grin. "Very well." He stepped into the arena.
Ching stood, and quietly conversed with Yuan. "Don't you think he gave up rather easily?"
"Yes, but if he's willing to fight, you can beat him in a normal match. I know you can."
Ching joined Tsung, but instead of taking up a fighting stance, he called across to a doorway. "Mileena, you can come in now."
Yuan watched with growing alarm as an identical copy of Ching entered, her outfit pink, and that seeming to be the only difference. "What do you think you're doing?" he shouted, standing.
"I'm exercising my right to substitute a willing ally in for myself," Shang Tsung stated.
"You can't do that!"
"Why, you must have missed something when you examined those rules. Yes. I can. It is stated very clearly that as a former champion of the Mortal Kombat tournament, I have the right to exchange myself with that of an untried fighter, but only once in a tournament. It's been in the rules for ages, but trusting in someone who has never before set foot in a fighting ring is usually not considered very intelligent."
Yuan unrolled the precious document and found the passage the sorcerer was referring to. "Bloody 'ell," he whispered, only half to the sorcerer. "We had you beat, and you knew it."
Ching was frightened. After so many years of fighting, she believed she knew her own weaknesses well enough, but she also knew the talent Shang Tsung had for 'improving' his clones over the original versions. Jade was undeniable proof—Kitana, a superb fighter in her own right, had never defeated her.
Yet it wasn't only the thought that she might not be able to defeat her clone that caused her fear. Seeing this duplicate of hers—a real duplicate, artificially created, not merely an uncanny resemblance such as Kitana—was disconcerting at the very least. As she watched the woman, if, with its mutant face, it could be called a woman, standing with the same posture as herself, observing her surroundings in the same manner, she wondered how Kitana could stand to be in the same area as Jade. But Jade had always seemed to be so much different from Kitana in everything except appearance...
Hadn't Yuan once said that the only way someone could have an exact duplicate of themselves was if the same people had raised the clone, treated it in the same manner, it had experienced the exact same things? Perhaps the years of Jade's different treatment than Kitana had caused her to develop into such a different person. Kitana the princess, Jade the assassin.
Kahn bellowed the order to fight, and both Ching and her clone flipped forward, preparing to kick, but passing each other in midair. Ching landed on the opposite side of the arena as her clone, caught off guard by its identical start, but dismissing the unlikely occurrence as the clone approached her, she aimed a high kick at it. The clone ducked under the kick and spun behind Ching, wrapping its arm around the other woman's throat.
As quickly as the clone had moved, Ching forgot her shock at its unexpected maneuver, a technique she wouldn't have used. Her suspicion that the clone had been taught in different styles, from different people as herself, confirmed, Ching swung her leg up, kicking the clone in the face. As it stumbled back, she spun around, using her momentum to give more power to a backhand, and facing the clone, she jammed her fingers into its throat.
Feinting a fall, the clone dropped to the ground and swept Ching off her feet. As she hit the ground on her back she threw her legs up before the clone could recover, kicking it in the chin as she rolled backward into a handstand, and continuing the motion into a series of back hand springs that led her far enough away from her opponent for a second of rest.
Using her distance to her advantage, she jumped and threw her sais, then dropped into a forward roll, propelling herself along with the force of wind. The clone, able to neither jump nor duck safely, chose to avoid the steel blades by stooping slightly, but was knocked into the air as Ching's curled body violently collided with her shins.
Standing immediately after hitting the clone, Ching jumped forward and landed an aerial kick on the clone's chest. The clone stood quickly, managing to duck under Ching's jumping spin kick, countering it with an uppercut of its own.
Ching hit the ground flat on her back, coughing as she rose to her knees, feeling dizzy after her bad landing. She stayed on her knees, facing almost completely away from her opponent, faking more injury than she felt, and also enjoying the breather. Looking through the sheet of black hair that veiled her sight and kept her opponent from being able to determine the angle of her head, she saw the clone cautiously approaching. As it lifted its right leg in the beginning of an axe kick, Ching slammed her leg up and out behind her, into the clone's stomach. It doubled over in pain, the air knocked out of it, while the axe kick barely connected with Ching's back. Ching then stood and smashed her elbow onto the base of the clone's neck.
The clone fell and did not rise for a few seconds. Ching reached down and pulled it up by the fabric of its fighting garb. It was still breathing, raggedly, and was heavily stunned. Looking at its face, the eyes identical to hers, she suddenly snatched a sai from her boot and slit its mask, and the skin underneath. The pink fabric fell from the clone, fluttering to the ground and revealing a grotesque mutant's mouth, the effect made even more gruesome by the blood from its slit lips staining its teeth. Ching took her other sai and shoved it through the clone's heart, the tip glinting out of her back, and as the life faded from the abomination of nature, she let it slide off the sai and to the ground.
"Mileena wins," stated Shao Kahn.
"—But don't be too certain of your victory, Mileena," added Shang Tsung. "You must still face Kintaro."
As he spoke a door opened to the side of Kahn's throne, and entered a being that caused sheer terror at first sight. He was mostly Shokan, with four massive arms, but he was somehow even larger than the already gargantuan Goro, if not in height, then in width and bulk weight, and his coloring was far different. Kintaro was dark orange with black tiger stripes on his back, sharply contrasted by the pure white of his stomach. He wore more armor than Goro had, mimicking Kahn's in the proud attire of an Outworld general.
Ching stared at Kintaro with disbelief, but not in the same manner of awe as the others. She had seen this beast before, even fought beside him, and it was her knowledge of his brutality and strength that caused her to stare, wondering how she would ever defeat him. Yet somehow Johnny Cage had beaten Goro, and if he could win, surely she could.
Kahn gave the call to fight as Shang Tsung relaxed in a chair, smug.
Ching stood her ground, unsure of how to begin as Kintaro lumbered forward. As he grew close, she decided to simply try something, and hopped up with a kick. His ungainly gait belied his agility; he blocked her attack and as she fell back to the ground, pushed out a leg in an awkward, yet devastating, kick that sent Ching smashing into the ground, several feet away from her starting point. She pushed herself off the ground, willing away the pain of heavily bruised, if not broken, ribs. Her attempt to attack high had failed, so she tried low, trying to sweep him off his feet. He was far too heavy, and even as she swung her leg with all her strength, he barely stumbled, and then punched her into the ground.
Already becoming dizzy from the beating she was enduring, Ching decided that perhaps her unique abilities might allow her to gain the upper hand. She dropped through the floor, reappearing above the Shokan and attempting to drive her foot into his face. Kintaro caught her mid-flight and slammed her into the ground before him. He suddenly disappeared, and Ching, more out of instinct and luck than anything else, rolled to her right. Two huge feet slammed down where she had been a split second before, and the ground shook beneath her.
She stood beside him, attempting to uppercut him, but through her dizziness her judgment was impaired, and she barely grazed his chin. He reciprocated her movement, connected fully, and sent her flying into the air.
Everyone watching cringed as she slammed back to the ground.
Ching was unaware that anyone could hurt so much and still live. She pushed up the top half of her body, retching blood and vomit onto the ground, hardly able to see as she tried to hold onto her consciousness.
She heard the creature laughing at her as it prepared the final blow. She stood, hoping somehow she would be able to avoid it, and as she nearly collapsed from a pain in her hip, she pressed her hand against it to see if it was seriously injured. Instead she felt the cold leather handle of a sai. As Kintaro leaned back to spit a fireball, she pulled it out, and drawing on the last bits of her inner strength, teleported once more. This time she didn't even try to kick. The Shokan caught her just as she knew he would, and she locked her legs around his massive torso so he could not pull her away. With both hands she thrust the sai deep into his eye and on into the brain. He collapsed slowly to the ground and she felt as though her legs were almost crushed beneath his great weight before she managed to free them.
Ching stood carefully, testing her limbs. Blood ran into her right eye from a gash somewhere above it, and she could hardly bear to place weight on her injured hip. She hunched over so she would not stretch her battered ribs, and the world was moving so much that she thought she would be seasick.
But she had beaten Kintaro.
Shao Kahn was late with his announcement, possibly shocked that she had won, and Shang Tsung took over. "Somehow, amazingly, you have managed to defeat Kintaro, and while your technique could probably be considered illegal, as judge, I will accept it. But still do not rejoice. Shao Kahn blocks your path to victory."
Ching turned, wiping blood from her eye again and seeking reassurance from Yuan, that maybe she didn't have to fight all three in the same day. He did not make eye contact, deliberately avoiding her gaze, and also frantically searching the rules for something he could use to her advantage.
She looked back at Kahn, as he took his place opposite of her. Somehow, after Kintaro, he didn't look quite so impressive anymore. She pulled her arm behind her, adopting her fighting stance and trying not to whimper as this stretched the muscles around her battered ribs.
Shang Tsung yelled the order to fight, before Kahn had even acknowledged that he was ready, but it was still too late. Ching had already collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
"Ching Sa!" Yuan cried as he leapt into the arena.
Shang Tsung laughed triumphantly. "We win."
"Are you insane?" Yuan replied, examining her motionless body. "She's comatose! Doesn't it say somewhere that we get to replace her?"
"No. She forfeited. That's like losing."
"She didn't forfeit. She won her match and then she fell unconscious before her next match had started. That's not forfeiting."
"She wasn't affected by an outside force. Therefore, she failed herself, and cannot be replaced."
"Wasn't affected by an outside force? What do you call Kintaro? A figment of her imagination? It says that no one is expected to carry the injuries of previous into others, without at least two hours of rest. I found that passage just as you ordered them to fight; at about the same time I heard Ching hit the ground. That's why you rushed the fight, so I couldn't find that and stop it. That you made her continue after fighting the clone, and again after Kintaro is, in and of itself, violating the rules."
"She violated the rules when she killed Kintaro."
"But you chose to ignore it. I'm not choosing to ignore this, and the rules say that we, the kombatants, are the only ones who can choose to ignore the breaking of rules on your part, which is undoubtedly why you hid these rules so carefully. So we couldn't ever prove you wrong if you had to cheat. Ching was affected by an outside force, she did not forfeit, and we get to replace her."
Shang Tsung cursed. "Fine. Who do you choose?"
"Liu Kang. But first, don't you have some sort of medical ward? We need a stretcher."
"It's down that hall and to the left," Tsung indicated with a wave of his hand. "Can't you carry her?"
"I shouldn't even move her until I know what all is hurt. The least I can do is keep her in almost the same position, rather than bending her all over the place, and not providing adequate support. Get me a stretcher."
"Very well." Tsung clapped his hands and a small woman, dressed in white, left the ring quickly, entering the hall that led to the sick bay, and returning swiftly with two more slave girls and a stretcher.
"Somebody give me a hand?" asked Yuan as he prepared to lift Ching onto the stretcher.
"We'll handle it," said Kitana, beckoning for Jade to follow her. They placed her carefully onto the stretcher, and carried her into the medical room.
It was nothing like a modern hospital, resembling the demonic resurrection room rather than a doctor's office. The 'doctor' was a decrepit old woman, completely bald with gray wrinkled skin, light yellow irises in her eyes, seeming to be nearly void of color, long wicked looking fingernails, which were also yellow, and rotting. She smelled of blood and decay, rather than antiseptic. She pushed Yuan out of the way, and opened her bag, in which, among her examining equipment, there were things such as dried black cats' paws and arsenic.
Yuan stood as far away from her as possible, next to Kitana, and watched the old woman carefully, not trusting her. "Is she a demoness?" he whispered to Kitana.
"Yes," she replied, then mischievously added, "She's a witch doctor."
Yuan half-smiled. "You're starting to sound like my father. You aren't going to make jokes about how the penguins make you feel underdressed are you?"
"What?"
"Never mind."
"She is called Succubus," said Jade.
"Succubus? Isn't that...ew," he said, covering his face with his hands, "Bad mental picture."
Kitana laughed. "Don't worry, she haunts no more."
The old demoness walked over to the three, standing just in front of Yuan. She was less than five feet tall, and she stared up at him, making him even more uncomfortable.
"You were right," she croaked. "She's in a coma. She has severe injuries, and shouldn't be moved, unless you want to be responsible for her death. No telling when she'll wake up. Or if she will. Or if the masters will let her live even if she does." The evil woman laughed, the sound screeching like fingernails on a chalkboard. Without further ado, she left, taking her ancient leather bag with her.
Yuan sat next to Ching's bed. He stared at her for the longest time, waiting for some sign that she would miraculously wake up soon. Finally, he looked up. "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to leave," said a new voice. Kitana, Jade, and Yuan looked to the doorway to see a gray ninja standing there. "Immediately."
"Smoke, where've you been?" asked Yuan, walking to the door.
"No matter. We have to leave. Liu Kang has beaten Shao Kahn, and in their rage, the Outworlders are going to kill all the Earth warriors. Kitana, Jade, you have better come with us also. They may view you as traitors."
"I cannot," said Kitana. "My people are here. Now that Shao Kahn has been defeated, we need to try to restore Edenia. They will not kill me. I am their beloved princess."
"Jade?" asked Smoke.
"I can't go if Kitana won't, remember?"
"Yes, that's right. Well, come on, Yuan. We have to hurry."
"How are we going to bring Ching?"
Smoke paused, looking slightly uncomfortable. "We can't. How would we get her to the portal? Especially if she shouldn't be moved."
"I'm not leaving her here," Yuan replied adamantly.
"Yuan, you have to come."
"No."
Smoke looked at Jade. She nodded, understanding his meaning, and walked forward to join them. The older Lin Kuei grabbed the younger around the waist and lifted him up, carrying him, struggling futilely, out the door. Jade slammed it shut and locked it. Smoke dropped Yuan.
He collapsed onto the floor, slamming his hand onto the door in vain and crying. "How could you do this?"
"They must not have both of you. It would all be over. Do you understand me?"
"No. But I'm not going to get back in, am I?"
"No."
"Well," Yuan said, standing, "let's go before we're killed."
Smoke handed him his bag. "That was easy," he commented.
"I'm not an idiot, Smoke. I know when I'm beaten. Which way?"
They ran down the halls, carefully avoiding guards and others with the stealth of the elite ninjas they were, until they reached an area awash in the indigo light of a giant portal. Several monks lay dead, their purple robes crumpled into piles on the floor, almost as though they'd disappeared. Raiden stood just outside the vortex's reach.
"You're last," he said. "Hurry." Smoke jumped through, as Shang Tsung burst through the door, enraged.
"Stop!" he yelled, but his words were cut off as a slender knife buried itself in his eye.
Raiden looked over to Yuan in surprise. "I didn't know you had throwing knives."
The despondent ninja shrugged and hopped through the portal.