A/N: As noted below, this take place three months after Mortal Kombat: Legacy.
The clacking of horse shoes on dirt filled the air. A sandstorm was currently blinding any poor soul trapped outside. This isn't the worst he's been through. The ones in Afghanistan put this to shame. Still, it was a good idea to bring a scarf and glasses. Didn't want to choke on sand before he found his target.
Heh. "Target." Sounds like an assassination's going to take place. Thankfully for them, that is not on Revolver's to-do list. Not yet anyway. Depends on how cooperative he is. No, it cannot go down that way. Enough attention has already been drawn to his boss's plan. He should not have told Stryker anything about him. Curse his love for a good shootout.
It's been three months since that little distraction. Revolver hadn't heard from Hideo in a while. Should give him a call after this is over.
A robotic voice chimes, "Weather will be clearing soon."
He took out a small device. He could barely see it through this storm. What he can see is that in another three hundred feet he'll get to that bar. The target hasn't been seen moving out of there for a few months. Good. Should be easy to coerce him. Probably drunk off his ass in a corner, crying to himself.
How he was able to survive those events three years ago was a mystery to Revolver. Word on the street was that he cut a deal with the Police Department. Information for freedom. It was a smart plan on paper. Too bad Shang Tsung's word didn't mean spit compared to his boss's.
The man was still needed.
The storm soon cleared, allowing Revolver to pull down his scarf. The air was warm, but it was less stuffy than breathing through cloth for twenty minutes. A light scruff was present on his chine and upper lip. His hair was now shoulder length as it blew in the air. He still wore his orange tinted sunglasses in order to stop the glare.
He could see off into the distance what was essentially a giant shack. It was a two floor building, sure, but from here it was rather unimpressive. Nothing like Hideo's.
After a few minutes of riding, he pulled the horse back, stopping its movement forward. He dropped down from the saddle before petting the horse's mane. He was about fifty feet from the bar.
Revolver trusted his horse enough to leave him here alone, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and moved forward.
As soon as he got to the door, he place his hand on the knob and threw it open.
All activity stopped to glare at this newcomer. Revolver had to admit there was more activity in this bar that he originally guessed. He counted about fifteen angry faces glaring at him. It was a scene straight out of a Western movie.
Revolver walked towards the bar, his spurs being the only noise to fill the establishment. He leaned against the bar, pulled out a stack of money, and said, "Everyone's drinks are on me."
The glares turned to smiles as they all began cheering. Revolver smiled before motioning the bartender over with a waging finger. "I'm going to make you a very happy man," the gunslinger whispered, holding out a far larger stack of money.
"As long as I don't have to drop my pants, sure."
Ignoring that statement, Revovler continued, "I want to know if you've seen this man lately." He pulled out a picture form his duster, handing it to the worker.
The bartender looked it over quietly before nodding. "Yeah, he showed up a few months ago. Shows up at six o'clock every morning and leaves at six o'clock at night."
"You let him stay here for twelve hours?"
"He tips very well," the bartender admitted.
The gunslinger looked around. "Does he have anywhere he usually sits?"
The bartender pointed to a booth in the corner. Even in this dark light, Revovler could see the muscular arm of a man.
Revolver clicked his tongue before setting down the money. The bartender greedily took it before running into the back.
He picked up the nearest mug of beer and downed it before moving over to the booth. Once he got closer, he could tell the man was twirling his knife. He seemed to be deep in thought as well.
Revolver removed his duster and folded it into his hands before sitting down across from him. His target had short, black hair, tattoos running up and down his arms, and an eyepatch covering his right eye. The man, in a thick Australian accent, spouted, "Get the fuck off the seat."
"Kano, my friend, you know me better than that," Revolver chided, setting his coat to the side. His smooth out the creases of his suit before sitting down.
Kano's one good eye went wide. "Revolver?" A smile crossed his face. "Aven't seen you in a dog's age!" He held out his hand to shake, which the gunslinger gladly took. After they let each other's hands go, Kano leaned back.
"So, what brings you all the way out 'ere?" Kano asked, raising an eyebrow. He placed his knife back in its sheath.
"Business, I'm afraid," Revolver replied genuinely.
"Woah, woah, woah, I'm done with all that magic shit, Revolver, you know that."
"No, you're done with Shang Tsung and Quan Chi. Since Shang Tsung is dead and Quan Chi has been missing these past few years, you now answer to a higher power."
"Like God?" Kano laughed. "He doesn't exist. Otherwise he wouldn't have put you or me on this world."
"We might be friends, Kano, but I want to assure you we are nothing alike." Revolver picked up Kano's only unopened can of beer. "But… yes. You could he's something like a 'God.'"
"Alright, I'll bite. What's in it for me?"
A chuckle escaped Revolver's lips. "Aside from living? Two things. I couldn't help but notice you've been having a little trouble with your vision."
Kano's upper lip curled up into a snarl. "Gee, never noticed."
"Hmm. Quite. I come with an offer to fix that," Revolver replied, looking at him with a smug look on his face.
The corners of Kano's mouth twitch upward. "And how're you gonna do that?"
"You'd be surprised the advancements my master has made with prosthetics, bionics, and cybernetics. We can artificially make any human organ or limb." He cracked the can open and took a sip. "Even an eyeball."
Kano opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead he asked, "What's the second chip?"
"The second 'chip' is a chance to get a little payback for the one who did that to you."
Kano's hand balled up into a fist. "Kadeem," he hissed.
"Yes." Revolver took a moment to remember who that was. "Him."
"Alright," Kano mussed. "I think we can work something out." He made a move to get up, but he accidentally bumped into a passing by drinker. The mug of alcohol spilt onto the newcomer's shirt, darkening it.
He looked down at it before turning his gaze towards Kano, who returned it with equal hatred. The newcomer sent a fist into Kano's chin, knocking him back. After rubbing his chin, he returned it with his own, only much more powerful.
The blow sent the man back into another table of two drunkards, causing them to begin shouting and hitting each other.
It all snowballed from there.
A patron had grabbed a bottle and smashed it over another's head. Kano had gotten the man he bumped into in a headlock and was slowly applying pressure.
Revolver planted his face in his palm, sighing. "This is the second time I can say I participated in a bar fight," Revolver mumbled, pulling out his Single Action Army and getting to his feet.
He gave it a quick twirl before firing it at the nearest wall. It bounced off and planted itself inside of a random patron's leg. He pulled out his other revolver and fired it directly at a different patron's shoulder. That one went down like a ton of bricks.
Revolver finally aimed it at Kano, who was staring down the barrel. The fighting had stopped as they began to turn their attention towards him. He looked over the sea of drunkards and one terrified bartender, holding his money close to his chest.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke. "Listen, I don't care what you do after I walk out that door, but I absolutely refuse to be a part of this." He aimed his gun at another patron. "My friend and I are going to walk out of this bar. After I leave you can beat the crap out of each other all you want." He made a move to the door, followed by a smug looking Kano.
Before he got to the door, someone shouted, "You think you can just walk in here and make demands, you little punk!"
Revolver will deny to this day that he was the one who fired the first shot. That does not change that when he did turn around, ten pistols were all pointed at him. He raised an eyebrow before asking, "I really did walk into a Western movie, didn't I?"
"You seem like a well off bloke," the largest of the man stated, his gun pressing against Revolver's forehead. "How about you give me every last dollar in your pocket?"
Revolver raised an eyebrow before grabbing the man's gun, sending it into his face, and then dismantling it. He let the pieces of the broken gun fall to the ground and had his revolver out before they hit the ground. He fired off a shot into the man's head before firing off three more shots into the crowd.
He gave the gun a quick twirl before lowering it. "Those three bullets should not have hit anybody." Holstering the spent revolver, he quickly pulled out another, fully loaded. He aimed it at the nearest patron. "This one still has six bullets."
He pulled back the hammer. "Do you really want to close this fine establishment down because an easily avoidable bloodbath took place?"
The patron who had the gun trained on him looked towards the other and shook his head in fear. When Revolver glanced down at the patron, he fired off a shot right next to him. The bullet whizzed past his ear, ricocheting off the wall, and slamming into the bartender's chest.
The bartender fell to the ground, dropping the shotgun he had brought out. The thud his body made resonated throughout the bar. Everyone stood stock still as the patron Revolver had aimed his gun as another patron let loose the urine collected in his bladder, staining his pants.
Kano let out a hearty laugh, as Revolver holstered his gun. "I have good news and bad news. The bad news is the bartender's dead." He gave off his hand signature before adding, "But the good news is that drinks are on the house."
The rest of the occupants mumbled to themselves before running over to the bar to get their fair share of booze.
Revolver stepped out of the bar followed by Kano, who asked, "Alright, what now? You killed my alcohol supplier, probably ruined business at that place, and dragged me out of my home. I think I'm owed an explanation."
"We're going back to Deacon," Revolver replied, placing his duster back on. "You'll get directions of what to do when you're back there. It'll explain everything."
"Now hold on a bloody second," Kano protested. "I cut a deal to get out of that hellhole. It ain't safe for a criminal mastermind like me no more."
"'Mastermind?'" Revolver mocked with a wicked grin.
"Alright, you get what I mean."
"Think about it, Kano. I'm making you an offer you really can't refuse. Not only do you get your eye back, but you also get to take revenge for whatever those police officers did to you."
Kano shook his head. "Why the hell do we always go after those people?"
"It's not them in particular we're after," Revolver replied. He gave a loud whistle and waited. "It's the city my master is interested in. That place is the staging ground for his takeover. We need it."
Kano shook his head again before stepping back. Revolver's horse came trotting over before stopping in front of its owner. The criminal sighed and asked, "What do I need to do?"
"Be a figure head." Revolver climbed onto the horse, petting its mane. He took out an envelope and handed it to Kano. "I have a guy working behind the scenes, getting all the requirements we need. It's a favor from a few years ago."
Kano scratched his head, thinking back. "Why the piece of paper?"
"That 'piece of paper' contains dates and locations. I suggest you be there. How? I don't care. Just be there."
With that, Revolver gave his horse a kick and rode off into the distance, leaving Kano behind.
The criminal opened the envelope and took out its contents. He gave it a glance over before shoving it into his pocket.
Moving towards a jeep, he took out his keys and began tossing him into the air.
Maybe a trip back to Deacon was due after all.