Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

LiuSubzeroSonyaJaxNightwolfStrykerKitana

Moving eastward was a relief for Raiden, though he was heading into territory that was less kind toward Chinese deities. One for the reason that most were monotheists and believed in "God" and for another that, if they didn't believe in God, they might not believe in him.

The Pacific Northwest was beautiful, Raiden knew from previous visits. The one downside was the monotonous, continuous, drenching rain that presided over the lands a great majority of the time.

With a sigh Raiden forwent his typical robes for waterproof gear, particularly his coolie hat that kept the rain from dripping into his face. Carefully making his way through eastern Washington, Raiden homed in on the aura of the Chosen One.

He came upon a small tepee placed under the protection of tree branches, where the ground was dry and firm. Cinders burned, waiting until the creator fed the fire with more tinder and wood. From inside the tepee sounds of yips intermixed with laughter.

Maybe this will turn out easier than last time, Raiden thought hopefully, calling out softly, "Hello!"

The flap entrance flew open, emitting a mid-sized bundle of muscles, fur, and snapping jaws. Following the wolf was the tip of an arrow, nocked in the bow by a Native American boy.

Or maybe this will turn out about the same as all the other times.

In spite of their belligerent welcome, the wolf came no nearer to him and the boy didn't lease the arrow. Raiden tried alleviating the tension with a smile and some humor. "Does your tribe always condone hostility against old men looking for shelter from the rain?"

"Only to protect my companion and myself," the boy answered evenly, though he relaxed the bowstring. "Who are you?"

"As I said," Raiden replied, settling himself on the far side of the fire, making certain that the rain wouldn't drip onto the back of his neck, "I'm an old man looking for shelter. I heard you and your companion, and hoped you would allow me to share your fire."

He held his fingers out to the wolf in order to appease the guard. Warily the wolf sniffed Raiden's fingers, sneezing and retreating behind the boy with whimpers.

The boy glared at Raiden. "Kiva says you smell wrong. Not human. What are you?"

Raiden blinked. "Impressive. You can communicate with . . . Kiva, was it?"

"Best in my tribe at it," the boy pulled the bow taut again. "What are you?"

"I'm not your enemy," Raiden answered. "In fact, I hope to bring you a future full of honor and adventure."

The boy tilted his head. "Cryptic."

"It's my specialty."

"You're a god."

Trying not to flinch, Raiden asked, "How do you figure?"

"It's the only answer Kiva can come up with."

Cursing himself for forgetting the companion, Raiden sighed. "Alright, I'm a god. Can your companion identify anything else about me? Just so that I don't insult you or embarrass myself with knowledge you already have."

The boy eyed him, lowering his bow reluctantly. "No, nothing else. He says you smell of ozone, though."

Well, there are some small graces left in the world. "Tell me boy, what's your name?"

The boy cocked his head. "Aren't gods supposed to be omniscient? That's what all the elders say."

"Humor me."

Obviously disappointed, the boy slipped out of the tepee and sat before the fire, across from Raiden. "Nightwolf. This is Kiva," he added uselessly as the wolf butted the boy before clambering into his lap. "You're getting too big to do that. I want to be the shaman of my tribe when I grow up, is my 'future full of honor and adventure' related to that at all?"

Curious little impudent child. "Becoming shaman is immaterial to the future I have in mind for you. Perhaps helpful, but I have nothing to confide in you about that."

Nightwolf sighed sadly. "Oh well. I tried. Can you at least tell me if I have happiness in my future?"

Raiden glowered at him. "I may be a god, but seeing into the future is not my faculty."

"Then what is?"

Little rat. "If you keep pressing me, you'll find out."

"So then you're a war-based god? Or elemental? Father said there were many of you among the pantheon, but you don't look like any of the gods we have on our—"

Patience slowly lost as Nightwolf narrowed down his identity, Raiden moved imperceptibly behind him and ran a jolt through the boy, the wolf sitting in his lap falling to the same fate. Nightwolf collapsed against his torso.

Damn inquisitive little child. I can already tell I'll have plenty of headaches when this one grows up and knows even more. Nonetheless, as Raiden marked the boy as he had with the previous two, the god smiled. It'll make for an interesting Kombat, that's for certain.

When the boy woke up the next morning to bright sunshine, the god had disappeared. Kiva whined at his side, licking his face when he sat up. Spotting something new among his belongings, Nightwolf took the object and examined it.

The bow was made not from typical bone or wood, but of a hollow, flexible material. When he concentrated, he could fuse his chi into the material and an arrow would materialize from the green glow. Pulling back the string and aiming, Nightwolf fired the chi-arrow fifty yards, a personal best he could never have accomplished with his other bow.

Eyeing the bow respectfully, Nightwolf cut off the flow of chi and slung his new bow over his shoulder. He paid his respects to the skies, the only place he could think of that the deity would return to. Collapsing his tepee and stamping out the cinders, he whistled to Kiva and started off for the tribe.

Next time I see him, I'll ask him how he made the bow. I'm sure he'll love explaining that to me.