Stained Glass
Chapter 3: 30 Pieces Of Silver
"Oh no …"
The moment he felt the Shaolin monk's hand slip from his own, Erron Black's heart took a nosedive into the pit of his stomach. Turning his attention away from the vexed-looking healer, and trying in vain to block out both the banging on the door and Kotal Kahn's blood-curdling yells, the gun-slinger looked down at the tear-stained face of the unconscious Earthrealmer, wearing a distressed expression beneath his leather-studded mask.
You can't be dead. Not now!
His eyes wandered up the kid's chest, on which the healer kept his hand along with the bloodied bandages. Although it was difficult to tell, it was without a doubt that his chest rose and fell with each short breath that he (somehow) managed to inhale and exhale. But just to make sure, Erron placed his fingers once more on the side of the bowman's neck. As sure as anything, a pulse was still there. Faint and irregular, yes, but damn well still there.
Alive. He's alive.
I swear to God, if he dies on me now …
But the God he no longer believed in was the least of his troubles.
On the other side of the door, the banging had suddenly ceased, as well as the shouting. But the silence that followed lasted for only a few seconds – there was an undecipherable yet curt yell, a moment's pause, and then –
CRASH!
Erron, again nearly jumping out of his skin, looked up in time to see the door crashing open, which was nearly thrown off its hinges due to the force exerted by the massive figure who had now lumbered into the room. He was a large brute, muscular and rough-skinned. The scant armour that adorned his body was mostly made up of spiked plates and secured with ropes. Tied to his face was a frayed red cloth, and, from his covered visage, only one of his eyes were visible thanks to a hole in the material. The eye itself was also blood-red, void of any shine or emotion whatsoever. It merely fixed itself on his comrade and the monk lying prostrate on the bed.
"Growff," the brute rumbled as he recognised the bowman, his eye flashing.
"Stay back, Torr," Erron warned, moving in front of the kid. His right hand wandered down to his holster, resting it atop his gun. "Move one inch and I'll blow your eye out."
"You no boss of we, Bang-bang!" cried a high-pitched voice.
What looked like a young girl appeared, her head popping up right next to that of Torr's and her hands resting atop of his shoulders. She, too, was outfitted in spike-plated armour, albeit it was secured with leather straps instead of ropes. Upon her hands she wore clawed gauntlets – no doubt lethal in this girl's use, as Erron had witnessed many times. Her small body seemed to be balanced on Torr's back. She reminded the former Earthrealmer of those birds who perched themselves on the backs of cows and ate the bugs off of them. From under her iron helmet, her auburn eyes crackled in glee.
"No shoot-shoot for you," Ferra cooed. "Big Bossy mad for trouble you make!"
Torr growled as if to agree with his partner before shifting to his right, allowing Erron to see past them.
Almost immediately, his stomach twisted into a tight knot.
Jesus …
A tall man entered the threshold. Power radiated from his muscular frame, but his obvious ire carried him into the healing chambers with the fervour of a man who was hell-bent on getting answers because his status demanded it. Blue war-paint covered every inch of his naturally olive-coloured skin, and his upper body was tattooed with designs that nobody but he and his kinsmen could explain the meaning of. He wore the guise of his people, but his stature, let alone his eagle-headed headdress, distinguished him from the average Osh-Tekk.
Kotal Kahn was not just the emperor – and not just Erron Black's employer.
To the empire over which he ruled, he was a god.
An idol.
False? Can't say.
Following in Kotal Kahn's step was the aptly named Reptile, a lizard-like humanoid fitted out in black clothing and a vest made almost entirely out of bone. He wore a two-piece mask that did little to hide the furious, scandalised expression on his scaly face. Next to him floated Ermac who stared blankly ahead at the gun-slinger; neither guilt nor satisfaction from informing the emperor and his entourage of his comrade's "transgressions" could be seen.
But Erron could care less about the construct at this moment. His attention was fixed on Kotal Kahn, who had stopped and stood beside Ferra/Torr to survey the scene before him. His luminescent blue eyes – normally benevolent and thoughtful – now held a raging fire that Erron had seen only once in his life.
After Junior and his friends escaped from the Kove …
… when we told him of her betrayal.
She never had to see it …
"What," said the Osh-Tekk emperor, "is the meaning of this?"
His voice echoed around the chambers like thunder in a storm. His enforcers were still as stone as they gazed upon their comrade, although they made an effort not to flinch upon hearing their leader's booming question. It even made the healer look up from his patient; his face, already etched with worry, paled considerably at the sight of the Kahn, but still he kept a trembling hand on the Shaolin monk's chest.
Erron said nothing. His response was to stare back at Kotal Kahn in silence.
His employer clearly did not appreciate the lack of an answer. His fists clenched at his sides, and the fire in his eyes grew bigger, hotter.
"Erron, what is the meaning of this?" the great being repeated, his voice akin to an earthquake. "Why is the Shaolin Earthrealmer in my palace?"
Again, Erron said nothing.
Don't give in. Stand your ground …
The lone sound that broke the silence was the shallow breathing from the bed behind him.
It was only when the Kahn made a move towards the bed that Erron reacted fast.
A flash of gold, and the emperor stopped in his step as the barrel of the mercenary's gun was aimed straight at him.
"Stay where you are," he muttered dangerously. "Don't come near him."
Kotal Kahn's face was full of astonishment and surprise, but ever so slowly it contorted into an expression of absolute rage. Narrowing his eyes and scowling, he growled:
"You would dare to shoot me?"
"Don't tempt me," replied Erron, his fingers ready to pull the trigger.
Behind him, the Osh-Tekk's enforcers' gazes turned into gapes at the gun-slinger's gall: Reptile issued a low hiss, his body hunching over slightly as he assumed a fighting stance; Ermac's hands glowed faintly; Ferra looked ready to fall off Torr's back out of shock, but she held onto his shoulders tightly, raising her gauntlets bit by bit in Erron's direction whilst Torr growled under his breath.
Five on one doesn't sound like I've got a good chance.
Then again, I've got a bullet for every last one of them.
But would you be able to kill them? another voice in Erron's mind asked. If you couldn't kill the kid, then how do you expect to kill them?
Would you try to save them, too …?
"Erron," Kotal Kahn spoke, his tone hard. "You defied my orders by bringing Kung Jin to Outworld alive. By contractual agreement, you were obligated to eradicate all the Thunder God's envoys. I expected you to have carried out this task in your own time, yet I was startled to be informed that you had brought an Earthrealmer – an enemy – to the healing chambers."
"The monk's dying," Erron answered simply, raising his gun higher. "He's not gonna make it if he doesn't receive proper treatment."
"He is not supposed to be alive at all!" the emperor exclaimed. "My orders were explicit enough: you were to eliminate him and his comrades. But evidently that is not the case."
To all appearances, it seemed like he and the mercenary's associates were slowly closing in on him and the bowman. Swallowing his dread, Erron's other hand automatically clutched the top of his other gun.
"Don't come any closer," he warned, trying to conceal the tremor in his timbre. "Stay away from Junior – I mean, Jin."
Here, Kotal Kahn canted his head to the side, looking somewhat bemused.
"You are not his carer, yet you have planted yourself in that ludicrous position for some reason or another," he murmured. "But your efforts shall come to nought, for his will be a swift death …"
"I'll be damned if I'll let you touch him," Erron heard himself snarl. "He's not about to die."
Not about to? He's practically on the edge of death.
He will die …
"I won't let him," he added lowly, more to himself than his employer. "I won't let him die …"
"Mr Black?"
The timorous voice of the healer grabbed everyone's attention. Not trusting himself to move from his place lest he exposed the Shaolin monk to the emperor and the others, Erron turned his head to look at the Outworlder who was grim-faced and pale. The bandage strips that he pressed to the bowman's chest were soaked through, the white material painted a ghastly red colour. The young man's chest itself now rose up and lowered at an excruciatingly slow pace.
Oh s*** … oh hell …
"Mr Black," the healer said, "he's bleeding too much. If we can't perform an immediate operation, his lungs will rapidly fill with blood and … he will essentially drown."
The mercenary's heart banged at the walls of his chest. He looked at the kid's face – even in an unconscious state, it was twisted in excruciation, his cheeks were wet and his rosy-pink mouth was parted, droplets of blood running down his chin in abandon.
"Drown?" he repeated, not wanting to believe it.
But this moment of disbelief gave Kotal Kahn the opening he needed.
The powerful being rushed forward, knocking the gun out of Erron's hand. Taken completely by surprise, the gun-slinger barely had time to retaliate before Kotal Kahn grabbed hold of both his wrists. His grip was strong, hurting his skin (and just about close to crushing his bones) despite the fact that he wore his own protective armbands. Erron grunted in pain. Trying to pull back his wrists only served to have the grip on wrists tightened even more.
Then, with all his might, the Osh-Tekk swung the former Earthrealmer away from the bed and behind him, hurling him into the bear-like arms of Torr. The brute caught him, wrapping his brawny arms around his bloodied body. Erron cried out as he did so, the weight of his captor's arms knocking the wind out of him and hurting his rib-cage. He was lifted a few feet off the floor; Ferra jumped off her partner's back to remove the other gun from Erron's holster and to pick up the other one on the ground. With his arms pinned to his side, the Outworld cowboy could only thrash wildly in Torr's hold.
"Put me down!" he yelled for all he was worth. "Let me go!"
"Struggling will serve you no purpose, mercenary," Reptile remarked as he appeared beside Torr. The Zaterran's nostrils crinkled upon inhaling the copper scent that the former Earthrealmer's clothing was saturated in. "The Shaolin monk is as good as dead. The Kahn will enjoy the fruits of your labour."
Erron stilled in fear. He watched Kotal Kahn approaching the bed, slow and smooth as a jaguar honing in on its prey. The healer tried to maintain his place at the Shaolin monk's side, but the heated glare that his leader shot at him made him retreat hurriedly into a corner. The bloodied bandages slipped off the bowman's chest, exposing the bullet wound. Blood continued to stream out of it, but this time the flow was becoming less and less fast and more thinner …
His heart-rate is slowing down.
Kotal Kahn took in the Earthrealmer's unconscious form. Then, his eyes fell on Erron's knife that had been placed on the bed-side tray. He reached for it, his fingers tracing the blade's edge.
The Kahn will enjoy the fruits of your labour …
His intent was all too clear as he turned back to the kid.
"Get away from him!" shouted Erron, his struggling efforts renewed. "Don't you dare touch him! I swear, if you do …!"
The emperor paid no heed to his employee at first. With one hand, he touched the monk's wound. The tips of his fingers were coated in crimson after a few seconds or so of feeling the general area. His hand wandered upwards by a few inches, splayed open over the area underneath which his weakening heart beat decreasingly, bleeding itself dry.
Erron was incensed by what he was seeing. He wanted to screech, "Get your damn hands off him!" and "Get them off now! I'll shoot you where you goddamn stand!", but the words were stuck in his throat. Instead, he resorted to flailing even more in Torr's arms.
Don't do it! Don't kill him!
"Be still, Black," he heard Ermac say. "It is not wise to go against the emperor's authority."
Erron did not deign to respond to that statement. However, it seemed as if someone else heard it loud and clear.
Finally, Kotal Kahn tore his gaze away from the Shaolin monk, his grip on the knife slackening somewhat. He regarded Erron with eyes that betrayed nary an emotion. They searched the other man's face for what seemed like forever and a day.
Erron, no longer thrashing, stared back. His mask hid his look of unhappiness well; only his eyes could do his pleading for him.
Junior doesn't have much time. We've got to do the operation.
Please …
Half a solid minute passed between them before Kotal Kahn, holding the knife tightly now, uprooted his gaze and addressed Torr and his comrades in a flat yet firm tone:
"Remove Erron Black from this room immediately – and sedate him if needs be."
"No!" cried Erron, trying in vain to escape, but Torr's hold on him was upgraded to a breathtaking, painful squeeze. "Ugh! Don't do this!"
The emperor took to ignoring him again. Turning his back on him, he beckoned the healer to come out of his corner, telling him that he was not going anywhere.
"Your assistance is required," he added, touching the kid's chest again with his bloody fingers. "Hold him down for me …"
Erron yelled out despite the aching sensation that pulsated throughout his body.
"Quiet, Bang-bang," Ferra hissed in his ear before saying something unintelligible to Torr, who responded with a grumble and turned towards the door, walking towards it with a strong clutch on the squirming cowboy. Reptile and Ermac followed suit in silence.
Oh hell no! The kid's a goner!
He wouldn't be going through this if you hadn't –
SHUT UP!
The door banged close behind them, and Erron still struggled as they walked further and further away from the healing chambers and down the corridor. Obscenities flew past his lips, he pinched and scratched at Torr's arms, he demanded to be released, he –
"Forgive me, Black," Ermac's voice rung in his ears before a cold, gloved hand pressed against his forehead.
Suddenly, the former Earthrealmer's mind was overwhelmed by a cloud of white noise. His body stiffened as his head became painfully heavy, his vision rolling …
… and then he saw no more.
"– consequences in due time … wait, he is waking up."
When Erron opened his eyes, he half-expected to be surrounded by flames and showered with brimstones. He became aware that he was lying atop of a bed, his head laid back on soft pillows and his fingers digging deep into the comforter. The lumber boards attached to the adobe ceiling and the herbal scent in the air made the gun-slinger realise where exactly he was.
I'm back in the healing chambers.
All of a sudden, something appeared in his vision. Blinking away the slight blurriness, Erron could see someone's face looking down at his. Auburn eyes gleamed from the impish countenance.
"Bang-bang enjoy sleep?" Ferra asked. "Better than screaming all time. Skinny scream lots, says Big Bossy – now Skinny sleep like the dead."
Erron's eyes widened at that.
Junior.
Despite his grogginess, the mercenary sat up fast, nearly knocking head-first into Ferra. Looking to his left, Erron saw Kotal Kahn, Reptile and Ermac standing together in front of another bed. All of them were looking at him. Torr stood near to the door. The healer was nowhere to be seen.
Where's Junior?
Ignoring the others, Erron looked directly at the Osh-Tekk. From his bed, he could see some blood covering the painted skin of his hands, and bloody flecks had somehow gotten on his chest, midriff and the leather of his loincloth. The comforter was squeezed into balls by Erron's fingers.
What in the hell did he do?
"The Earthrealmer was dying," said Kotal Kahn, staring at Erron with a narrowed gaze. "He was dangerously close to losing his life because of your actions, however skewed they were. Putting him out of his misery seemed to be the only logical solution …"
He paused.
Erron inhaled sharply. The beats of his heart echoed harshly in his ears.
The emperor shook his head.
"But even I would not allow myself to finish the dirty work that you started," he murmured.
As if on cue, Kotal Kahn moved to the side, and Reptile and Ermac followed suit. Erron's eyes fell on the other bed, and immediately they were filled with surprise.
"Jin …?" he whispered in disbelief.
Kotal Kahn nodded.
"Yes, Erron. He's alive."
In the bed next to his lay the Shaolin monk. His lower body was covered by the comforter, and his arms – now lacking armbands – lay on either side of his form. His chest, swathed in bandages and washed clean where they had been blood, rose slowly and steadily. The kid's head was propped up by large pillows; his face was no longer clouded by agony. No tears, no blood, no pain … just peace.
Skinny sleep like the dead.
Drawing his gaze downwards towards his chest, studying the bandages for several seconds, Erron looked back up at the Osh-Tekk emperor.
"You saved him?" he questioned, incredulous.
Reptile hissed under his breath, but his leader shot him a fiery glare that made him hush, although the Zaterran – no longer wearing his mask – looked extremely bitter. Then, the Kahn turned to address the stunned former Earthrealmer.
"His life was not yours to save," he stated, "nor was it mine. He was meant to die."
Erron stared at his employer, goggle-eyed. He opened his mouth to say something, but the other man waved a dismissive hand.
"Proceed to the throne room in five minutes," he commanded. "We will discuss the matter there. Ermac, escort him when he is ready. Do not let him out of your sight. The rest of you, follow me."
Kotal Kahn strode past Erron's bed and out of the healing chambers with Reptile and Ferra/Torr on his heels. When they were gone, Ermac stepped towards his comrade, watching as the gun-slinger swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up to stand. Ignoring the construct, Erron walked towards the kid's bed, stopping beside it to take in the bandaged, sleeping form. The bowman's face was still pale, but one could see the colour returning to his cheeks.
Why did the Kahn save you? Why didn't he finish you off when he had the opportunity?
"You would do well not to tarry, Black," said Ermac, interrupting his thoughts. "We do not wish to see the Kahn's wrath unleashed upon you."
He glanced at the Outworld cowboy's bloodied attire. "You look terrible."
Erron frowned behind his mask, but he did not say a word.
Save your energy for the emperor. Don't waste your breath on ghosty.
At that moment, the healer appeared from around the corner with a small pile of clean sheets in his arms. When he saw Erron and Ermac, he stopped in his tracks, a look of fear flashing across his face.
"Mr Black," he stammered, looking down at the ground. "The operation … it was a success. The emperor's expertise saved your … er, your quarry."
Erron did not immediately respond to that statement. It was when he assured himself that he saw the monk still breathing that he turned his attention to the Outworlder.
"Still have my knife?" he asked lowly.
The healer nodded.
"Keep it," said the gun-slinger before he gestured to the kid. "Watch him."
"Even if he awakes now, he will not be able to escape in his current condition," Ermac remarked.
Here, Erron turned to Ermac with narrowed eyes.
"Who said anything about him escaping? It's more about keeping unwanted visitors out …"
His voice trailed off, but the implications were clear. Ermac looked as if he was going to say something, but he held his tongue.
Casting one last glance at the Shaolin monk, Erron spoke to the healer again.
"Watch him," he repeated. "He's lucky to remain alive."
Me … I can't say the same.
Gulping down the thought, Erron noticed movement in the corner of his eyes. Turning, he watched as Ermac used his powers to pick up the mercenary's hat that had been flung into corner and forgotten by its owner. The construct lightly brushed the hat's brim before proffering it up to Erron.
"Perhaps wearing it will draw attention away from your appearance," he commented.
Erron silently accepted the headgear. Then, with his comrade following in his step, he took a deep breath and left the healing chambers.
The throne room was a grand affair. Under Shao Kahn's rule, it had been dark and deadly as the one who had occupied the throne. After his death, Mileena rebuilt the palace to suit her needs, although the throne room remained the same so as to honour her father's memory. When Kotal Kahn toppled her empire, the palace – including the room – underwent a huge overhaul. The complete product was Osh-Tekk architecture to the core, but an Earthrealm eye would see the influence of Mayan infrastructure.
It was a spacious room, with stone pillars – their surfaces carved with iconographic designs – rising to meet the ceiling. Red velvet drapes hung from the ceiling, and fire lamps stood against the adobe walls that also had designs etched into them. To the far end of the room was the throne, a modest stone structure standing upon a small platform, with the wall behind it inlaid with tiles and a great, golden sun disk. Retractable panels in the ceiling, remnants of Shao Kahn's rule, were only opened during special occasions, allowing the light of the Outworld sun to reflect off the disk. If the figure sitting upon the throne was not intimidating enough, then surely the skulls sitting at the platform's base did the trick.
As Erron and Ermac entered the throne room, the cowboy's neutral expression behind his mask faltered as his eyes fell upon Kotal Kahn's lofty figure sitting erect upon the throne. His face was void of emotion, save for the fire still raging in his eyes. On his right stood Reptile – a fitting place for his right-hand man, so to speak, although jesting whispers among the servants reckoned that, given his forever-long affiliation with the emperor, his rightful place was on the left … the place of the consort.
They said the same thing about her …
Ferra/Torr instead occupied the left of the Osh-Tekk; so still they were, they looked like statues. The girl could have been a stone gargoyle perched on top of an obelisk. The only sign of movement was the frayed edges of Torr's cloth flapping every time the brute breathed.
As the two enforcers approached him, Kotal Kahn locked eyes with Ermac and waved his bloodstained hand towards the dual being. Bowing his head, Ermac walked away from Erron to join them. Balling his hands into fists, the former Earthrealmer turned his kohl-painted eyes up to Outworld's god.
"He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun" – c'mon, darling, repeat it after me, don't be lazy …
"Erron Black."
Kotal Kahn's voice rumbled throughout the throne room, sending a wave of vibrations through Erron's body – and no doubt that of the others. He kept his gaze on his employer, though he dug his fingernails deep into the folds of his palms.
"Erron Black," started the emperor, "on this day you did disobey my orders to terminate Raiden's team of Earthrealm warriors. The stipulations of your contract outlined that all four of them were to perish. By letting the Shaolin monk, Kung Jin, live, and by bringing him to my palace, you failed in your service.
"To add further to this betrayal of trust, you made use of the healing chambers' resources to aid in his recovery, and you openly defied me by questioning my authority, by putting yourself between me and the Earthrealmer, by threatening to kill me and by your attempting to retaliate against your comrades' own efforts to subdue you. They all bore witness to your insubordinate behaviour."
Reptile nodded in affirmation, Ermac bowed his head once more, and Ferra/Torr issued a mixture of giggles and growls.
"So pray tell me, mercenary," Kotal Kahn said as he leaned forward in his seat, his tone dangerously low, "what precisely was the reasoning behind your actions? And Elder Gods help me, I will not accept silence as an answer."
Erron knew it would have been appropriate to cast his eyes downwards out of respect for the powerful being whilst he answered. In spite of this, however, he kept his azure-blue eyes locked on the burning globes, for it added a sense of validity and strength to his responding statement:
"I don't know, Emperor."
For a moment, Kotal Kahn looked flabbergasted, as did the others. Then, his features hardened like clay.
"You don't know? You don't know?" he bellowed. "That answer is no less acceptable than silence! Your made your intention clear in the healing chambers – to keep the Shaolin monk alive. But I want to know why this is so. What made you disregard my commands, Erron?"
"Again, I don't know, Emperor," replied Erron, his tone both even and sincere. "I can't offer you a reason more feasible than that."
Feasible hardly describes it. Still, if it will prevent my skull from being fixed to the floor …
A sickening crack! was heard as the Kahn brought his fist down on the arm of his throne; chunks of rock splintered off and fell to the ground in a dusty heap. The gun-slinger nearly gave up the ghost, he got a terrible fright, yet he was amazed at himself for maintaining his composure. But it took all of his strength to not look away, for the intensity of the Osh-Tekk's eyes was as strong as twin suns.
"Erron," the emperor roared in absolute rage, "do you realise what predicament you have put me in?"
Erron was silent.
I've got a feeling that you're gonna tell me.
"Ye gods," Kotal Kahn groaned, looking up towards the ceiling in a beseeching manner. "What have I done to deserve another D'Vorah in my midst?"
Erron drew in a sharp breath; his associates exchanged looks of astonishment, the sound of her name resounding in the air.
D'Vorah …
Her name had never been spoken, by the emperor or the rest of its habitants, in the palace for the longest time, though it remained in their minds … until now.
The Kahn never forgave her for betraying him to Shinnok … she never had to see his eyes when we told him what she'd done …
"Another D'Vorah in my midst" … why does it feel like he is calling me a Judas?
"Erron," said Kotal Kahn, his voice rising with every word that left his mouth, "bringing the Shaolin monk to Outworld was a terrible mistake on your part. No doubt that Special Forces will raise the alarm when they find three bullet-ridden bodies and one missing. They will try to find him, and sooner or later they will trace his whereabouts to Outworld. It will take them no time at all to discover that I called for their extermination."
"Emperor, if you're concerned about S-F finding the monk, and if you wanted him dead, then why didn't you kill him earlier?" asked Erron, the words escaping before he could stop them.
The Osh-Tekk gawked at the cowboy's impertinence, then a growl much like thunder boomed from the back of his throat.
"Tixtotomac!" he yelled. "That was your responsibility! I did not wish to sully my hands in completing a simple task that I had assigned you, yet they are sullied nonetheless for saving his pathetic life!"
"Then why did you?" pressed Erron calmly, backing a step away.
Why does he still live, Black? What made you put down the gun?
The Kahn kept a firm grip on his throne's arms, and the former Earthrealmer's inquiry only served to make his grip tighten.
"I assume," he responded through gritted teeth, "that you were going to return Kung Jin to Earthrealm once you had performed the operation?"
Erron hesitated before shaking his head.
"Not immediately after, no," he answered. "He would be in no condition to travel. Recovery from a wound of that calibre takes time."
Kotal Kahn stared at him.
"Did you plan to return him to Earthrealm at all, Erron?"
The mercenary's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"I …"
His voice went no further than that.
The emperor pinched the bridge of his nose as he groaned again.
"Clearly you did not have a plan of action for beyond that point," he grumbled.
Erron bit on his bottom lip in a precarious manner. The emperor's right. I didn't think what I was gonna do with the kid after all this s*** got pulled. Then again, I didn't think I was gonna end up not killing him …
"He can't return to Earthrealm," he heard himself say. "At least, not until he heals properly. 'Til then, we can only hope that the heat will die down."
It was the turn of Kotal Kahn to raise his eyebrows.
"They will suspect you, Erron," he said. "Their technology far surpasses ours, and they will be able to discover the Earthrealmers' cause of death and hold you responsible."
"Not necessarily," retorted Erron. "I'm not the only gun-toting mercenary in the universe, and S-F isn't without its enemies. The Black Dragon, the Red Dragon … they'd have a reason to kill off Cage, Takahashi and Briggs."
Kotal Kahn did not look convinced.
"And what of Kung Jin? His absence will be the Earthrealmers' primary concern."
"Taken hostage by either one of those clans, for ransom or for reasons only known to them," the other man replied. "Perhaps he was interrogated and killed afterwards, and they disposed of his body."
The emperor sat back in his throne, regarding the former Earthrealmer through half-lidded eyes.
"Yet whatever the case may be, you still intend to keep the Shaolin monk alive," he stated flatly.
The second hesitation was not lost on the powerful being. "Come now, Erron, what say you?"
Aware of the others staring at him in expectation, Erron lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.
Say no, and Junior will die. Say yes, and you both will die … maybe …
Can you pay the price of betrayal?
What is your verdict, Black, before yours is passed down?
He opened his eyes, letting them wander up to settle upon the seated figure.
"So long as the kid's in Outworld, no one touches him if I can help it," he proclaimed.
"Traitorous scum," jeered Reptile, the sharp sibilant sounds harsh to Erron's ears.
"Cacti," Kotal Kahn hissed in the Zaterran's direction before he focused on the gun-slinger. "In light of your failure to honour your contract, then it is apt that you shall be punished forthwith."
Erron's fingernails nearly broke through the skin of his palms like a crucifixion in process.
The emperor continued with his sentencing. "For disposing only three of the four Earthrealmers, you will not receive the payment of the amount that was agreed upon in the contract."
"What?!" cried Erron, his mouth open in shock.
"For your disobedience," went on the Outworlder, "you will be suspended from your duties for six weeks without pay."
"Six weeks without pay! Emperor, you can't do that!"
"Protest any further, mercenary, and I will gladly change it to 12 weeks without pay," the Kahn shot back.
Erron shut his mouth. His fists trembled in fury.
"Finally, for your inclination to preserve the life of Kung Jin," concluded Kotal Kahn, "you will be responsible for his well-being. You will pay out of your own expenses to help him through his recovery: that includes food, lodging and medical supplies. The palace kitchen will not cater for you nor for him. Should you require the assistance of the healer, you pay him out of your pocket, not mine."
He paused as he leaned forward again, those twin suns boring into the black-lined ocean that were Erron's eyes.
"But if the monk attempts to make contact with Earthrealm and bring the truth behind his team-mates' deaths to light," he muttered lowly, "I will plant a knife in his chest and slash him wide open once more … only this time, I will let him bleed himself dry."
Those chilly words made Erron's skin go cold in an instant, dousing his rage for a moment. All at once, Ferra's earlier remark made sense.
Skinny scream lots, says Big Bossy …
First my bullets, then my knife …
"As of this moment, your punishment is effective immediately," declared Kotal Kahn. He sat back in his throne with an air of finality. "Now take your leave."
Erron moved a step forward. "Emperor, what –"
"The matter has been dealt with," the Osh-Tekk emperor cut him off firmly. "Leave now."
Those were his final words, and Erron knew that there was no arguing with him. Once again biting his bottom lip, he glanced around at his comrades. Reptile glowered at him, his yellow-green eyes, if not his entire frame, radiating absolute loathing; Ferra had taken to fiddling with the cords of the rope wound around Torr's face covering, the symbiotic pair apparently content with their leader's judgement; Ermac stared down at his feet, an unreadable expression on his decrepit face.
So it must be like this … they see me like they see D'Vorah …
… very well.
Wordlessly, Erron touched the brim of his hat, turned around and strode out of the throne room.
When he was gone, Kotal Kahn let out a weary sigh.
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, as the Earthrealm saying goes," he muttered under his breath.
His enforcers moved from their places to stand before him, awaiting their orders. Again pinching the bridge of his nose, ignoring the copper smell of the mortal's blood on his hand, the Osh-Tekk man addressed them:
"You will all leave here now and resume your regular duties. Do not attempt to aid Erron unless the Shaolin monk threatens to throw us all into jeopardy – if it ever comes down to that unpleasant situation, you have my approval to end the Earthrealmer's life. Ferra and Torr, return Erron's weapons to him before the end of today."
The heat in his eyes cooled. "It has been a poor day, but nimitznotlatlauhtilia, do not let your comrade's actions dwell in your hearts and minds. The sun will remain high so long as you are risen towards it. You are dismissed."
With a cry of "Loopay!" from Ferra, Torr tramped out of the throne room. Ermac dipped his head respectfully and floated after them.
This left only Reptile. He edged towards the Kahn, who watched him intently despite his visible exhaustion.
"Ko'atal," the Zaterran said, the Osh-Tekk's birth name sounding oddly soft off his sharp tongue. "Black asked the question that has been puzzling me this entire time: why didn't you kill Kung Jin when you had the chance?"
Here, Kotal Kahn sighed once more. In that moment, he appeared less like a god and more like a tired man who carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. When he answered Reptile, his tone conveyed a sense of all-knowing, yet his enforcer knew there was a smidgen of truth to his words.
"Because, Syzoth," the emperor replied, "if I had killed the Shaolin monk, then I've no doubt in my mind that Erron Black would not rest, letting no obstacle hinder him, until he killed me."
"Are you sure that you want him here rather than stay in the healing chambers, Mr Black?"
"He'll be safer from the others if he stays here. Besides, I ain't prepared to pay you beyond medical help if you start charging me for rent."
Erron's eyes dropped to the face of the sleeping Shaolin monk. In the light of the mid-afternoon sun that shone through the window, his features looked tranquil and lively – much different from before when it had been masked with agony.
"It's for the best," the gun-slinger murmured before looking at the healer. "No one enters my bedroom except for me, and no one will have access to the kid without my say-so."
As soon as he had left the throne room, a furious Erron felt the urge to punch something. He wanted to scream and shout until his voice gave out, to tear at his hair whilst cursing his entire existence …
… but instead, he paused in his step, took a deep breath and considered what just happened.
You're alive, Black, and so's Junior. Even if the punishment's gonna bite you in the ass, you're lucky to have gotten away with such a light sentence.
Right now, concentrate on the kid. You've gotta watch him now.
'Cause sure as hell he's far from safe …
Putting on a calm façade, Erron made his way back to the healing chambers and, upon entering it, walked straight to the Earthrealmer's bed, beside which sat the tense healer with the mercenary's knife clutched in his hands; the kid was the same as he had left him, deep in slumber. That was to be understood, since he was still fresh from the operation.
And all that screaming must've tired him out.
"Mr Black," the healer started as he got up. "What did the emperor say?"
Erron turned to him. "Never mind what he said for now – listen to what I'm gonna say to you. The monk's not going to stay here any more. Staying here will put his safety at risk. He'll have to be moved."
"Moved? Where to?"
The Outworld cowboy thought for a long moment before he responded with his own question:
"Tell me, are you able to get one of these beds to fit through the door of my sleeping quarters?"
And it was not long after this question was asked when the healer, with the assistance of some palace servants – who were unaware of Erron's punishment – dismantled one of the beds, carried everything from the pillows and the sheets to the mattress and the frame to the former Earthrealmer's sleeping quarters located on the east side of the palace, and set up the bed on the left side of the spacious room (being in the employ of Kotal Kahn, suspended or otherwise, has its perks, as the room was quite a change from what Erron was used to).
When this was complete, it was then time to move the bowman from the healing chambers to the bedroom. As he had done before, Erron carefully placed his arms under the other man's body and lifted him up; the sash-like garment that was wrapped around his waist and his armoured boots had been removed by the healer, leaving him only in his baggy pants and bandages.
Least he's lighter to carry this time round, damn his fat ass.
Through the palace corridors Erron carried the monk. The latter's head was tipped back, but at least the jasmine scent in his hair did not spring forth again. In any case, the former was more concerned about the looks he drew from the servants that he passed. Astounded, they stared as they saw the gun-slinger carrying the unconscious Earthrealmer like a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. In due time, Erron knew, they would learn what had happened earlier that day, but he still felt unnerved by their condemnatory looks.
I've had enough condemnation for one day …
Soon, Erron had reached his sleeping quarters. Spacious though it was, with a balcony overlooking a spectacular view of Z'Unkahrah and with an en-suite bathroom attached, it was more or less just a place that housed his few possessions and where he could lay his head at night. It was not very colourful (unless you counted the red curtains), and the décor was scarce, save for the odd Outworld relic, trophies collected from his contract jobs and several lightweight fire lamps. Against the left wall stood his wardrobe, which was sparsely filled with clothing, and his rifle and Tarkatan-bladed sword hung on a rack standing next to it. On the right side of the room was a wooden table with drawers; its surface was clean, but other times Erron would be leaning over it to carve names into his bullets or to be polishing them, the barrels of his guns and his boots. His large bed was at the far end, and the bed-side table was bare, normally littered with the cowboy's revolvers.
Entering the room, Erron felt his body relax little by little. He did not much care for the materialistic value of his quarters, but he sure as hell appreciated the privacy it afforded him. His solitary nature was not unusual, although it emphasised the fact that he was not of Outworld origin, that he was an outcast of sorts. His only haven was this room, and no one was allowed to enter it lest they planned on walking head-first into two gun barrels.
Home away from home, I s'pose …
Ever so gently, Erron had laid the Shaolin monk into the spare bed and pulled the covers over him. The healer, who had sent the servants away, handed over the bowman's personal effects: his armour plate, his bead and teeth necklaces, the sash and his boots.
"I'll come by later this evening to check on him," he said. "His bandages will only need replacing tomorrow, but it's more the case of whether he feels ill after he wakes up that I'm concerned with."
"Do what you have to do," responded the mercenary. "I'll fill you in on the details of my meeting with the Kahn later."
The healer stole a glance at his patient before looking back at Erron. His lips formed into a frown.
"Mr Black, are you quite certain that the Earthrealmer is safe here?" he asked.
Erron's shaded eyes glinted harshly.
"It's for his own good," he answered sonorously. "Maintaining his overall well-being is my responsibility. If you don't have anything else to say to me, then go. Meet back here at six o'clock."
With uncertainty etched into his features, the healer left the room, leaving the gun-slinger alone with the bowman.
Watching the door close, Erron went to lock it. Then, turning around, his gaze fell upon the monk once more. The sunlight touched the raven strands of his hair, making them appear golden.
Golden … smelling like jasmine … just like –
No. Don't think of her.
Breathing in, Erron caught the whiff of copper. It was then he remembered that his entire outfit, with the exception of his poncho, was bloodstained. Indeed, dry blood caked his vest, knee-pads and parts of his armbands and boots, whilst his soaked shirt and pants stuck to his skin.
No friggin' wonder those servants looked at me something awful.
Removing his hat and his bandoliers, Erron quietly walked pass the kid's bed – glancing over to make sure that he was really alive and well, so to speak – and made his way towards the bathroom.
It was past four o'clock, but it did not stop Erron from taking swigs of whiskey from his flask.
It's been a long day.
The former Earthrealmer leaned against the frame of the balcony doors, taking in the view of the city and basking in the warmth of the Outworld sun. He had emerged from a long, hot bath, feeling cleansed and comfortable. With his soiled clothes left in a pile that he would send away to be cleaned, the mercenary was now dressed in a loose dark shirt and black silk pants. His hat, poncho and mask hung on the rack. His blue eyes had been scrubbed clean, no longer ringed in kohl, and they almost drew attention away from the prominent cheek-bones, the smooth and sturdy jawline, and the pink lips which were slightly plump.
If anyone was to be asked who he was, they would never think for a moment that he was Erron Black, the infamous mercenary, unless they took the well-known, tally-marked scars adorning his muscular arms into consideration.
To the eyes of Outworlders, they would have most likely answered, "He's just an Earthrealmer."
Wrong.
Earthrealm isn't my home … not any more.
I'm an Outworlder now.
Not that it stops them from thinking of me as an Earthrealm traitor …
Sighing, Erron glanced over at the Shaolin monk – he still slept away.
Peaceful-looking …
… but I bet that won't last long. Junior can be a cocky little jackass when he puts his mind to it, and I'm sure he'll give me some grief when he comes to. To think I have to look after him without six weeks' pay …
The whiskey tasted good as he downed another swig. The thought of going without payment for six weeks, however, along with the fact that he was not being paid for killing the other Earthrealmers, was a bitter pill to swallow. Other than the beverage, the only thing that soothed Erron was the knowledge that he had enough money to support himself for at least another two months. When he was not carrying out his duties at the palace, he lent his private mercenary services to persons who had need of his particular skills. Agreeing to carry out contract kills meant earning big money from his well-to-do clients, and Erron was not the type to spend his money willy-nilly.
A Judas by profession, minus the betrayal and more than 30 pieces of silver …
The smoky flavour of the golden liquid was delicious, making Erron hum with pleasure.
But it was not even a full five seconds later when the little hum turned into a croon that the gun-slinger absent-mindedly begun under his breath …
Ten pieces of silver for my company
My trust for ten pieces more
Give me 30 pieces of silver
Then darlin', I'm all yours.
Speak my name softly three times, honey,
And cry it when it comes to four
Give me 30 pieces of silver
Then darlin', I'm all yours.
Kiss your cheek for everyone to see
It was you I once adored
But for 30 pieces of silver
Oh darlin', I ain't yours.
30 pieces of silver for my company
You can't spare a penny more
Can'tcha give 30 pieces of silver
Then darlin', there's the door.
"Darling?"
He nearly jumped upon hearing her voice. Turning his head to look behind him, he saw her standing in the doorway, a frown painted across her pretty features. From where he sat – on the first step of the porch – he could tell that she was unhappy. Very unhappy.
"Yes'm? he said, his voice small.
"What are you doin' out here, boy?" she asked, her honeyed timbre suddenly taking on a harsh quality. "Ain't you supposed to be helpin' your brothers clean out the barn?"
"They told me I'm too small to help 'em," he answered in a quiver. "They called me a baby."
"And you believed 'em?"
"Yes'm. They call me a baby all the time. And Junior, too."
"So Junior decided to sit here lookin' pretty on my front porch and sing a song of sin for the whole damn world to hear?"
She was practically hissing at him, and it made him want to crawl under the porch and cry.
"I was only singin' it 'cause I heard you sing it," he whimpered.
Her eyes flashed like lightning in a North Texas storm.
"What did you say?" she rumbled.
His lower lip began to wobble, and his face began to grow warm. He anxiously picked at his fingernails.
"Answer me, boy!" she barked, stamping her foot.
Biting on his bottom lip, the poor little thing stammered his reply: "I heard you singin' it the other night when I saw you were out here on the porch with Mr Samson –"
"Hush up!"
She stomped towards him, and he was so overcome by fear that he could not bring himself to run away. Several seconds later, a cry escaped from his mouth as she took hold of his left ear, pinching it between her warm fingers, and pulled him up to his feet. Hot tears licked at the corners of his eyes, but she paid them no mind.
"Lemme tell you something, darling, and you listen good 'cause I'm only sayin' this once," she hissed into the reddening ear. "Never sing that song again. It ain't fit for decent folks to hear, and I don't want anybody to think that I raised my boys the wrong way. Got that?"
She pinched his ear harder, eliciting another cry.
"Yes'm," he choked, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"And boy, you don't tell any livin' soul about you seein' me with Mr Samson," she whispered perilously. "You especially don't breathe a word of this to your daddy. Swear on the good Lord's name that you won't!"
"I won't, Mama, I won't!" he sobbed. "Please let me go!"
"Swear on His name, you little Judas or Junior or whoever the hell you are!"
"I swear! I swear!"
Pin-pricks of blood stained her fingertips.
"Say it again, boy!"
He could not, for all he could do was weep and weep and –
"Mmmph …"
Erron's head snapped up when he heard the low moan.
What was that?
Closing and pocketing his flask, the mercenary walked a couple of steps away from the door frame towards the occupied spare bed. He stared at the Shaolin monk, whose eyes were still closed and his body lying the same way as before, and he frowned.
Did I imagine that? The kid looks like he's still sleeping –
"Arrrgghh …"
This time, the rosy-pink lips parted to let an audible moan escape. His eyebrows furrowed as those closed eyes squeezed tighter, making his eyelashes hug the top of his cheeks. His head moved slightly on its left, and yet another moan, or moans, were made:
"Ughnnn … mmm …"
Erron's heart did a somersault, and the barest hint of a smile made itself known on his unmasked face.
Junior is waking up.
A/N: Tixtotomac = "You are a fool"; Cacti = "Quiet"; Nimitznotlatlauhtilia = "I pray to you" (all from the Aztecan language, Nahuatl - I couldn't find a suitable Yucatec Maya resource, so I opted for Nahuatl ^-^;;); Loopay = derived from Afrikaans loop, meaning "walk" (kinda taking creative license with Ferra/Torr's language here).
Alexa - *Huggles* I hope the doubts and fear are gone away now ... sort of? *Hides in bushes in shame* Poor boys indeed; at least Ko-Ko didn't kill them (otherwise I probably would've booted the Sun God when the sun don't shine). Hope this chappie was alright - and yay for being a fellow E/J lover! I've got too many MK OTPs, but these two are my chilluns so far. :D
Jackie - Oh my goodness, I'm sorry that this update is so delayed and it kept you waiting! :'( I feel bad for making these poor bubbies suffer, but anything to make Erron more human and less like a robotic raccoon (bruh does care, bless him, not that he'll admit it). Aw no, poor Ermac. XD Still, I get what you mean - I'd hate to be delayed when there's an emergency going down. Hopefully he redeemed himself a little in this chapter? Heh, even in the most serious of moments, the cowboy's gotta ruin it with his internal running commentary. XD Thank you for the lovely compliment, hun! :)
Guest - It took me a while to get my act together, but here's the update at last. :) It's a shame that there's not a lot of stories about Erron/Jin, but at least the one-shots on here are good. :) And thank you for calling Black Velvet a masterpiece (I wish it was, though - and if you're the same guest, then yup, Black Velvet is my baby). XD I know, Jin always seems to be the one who gets hit hard with the injuries and whatnot. But in the next chapter, Erron's not gonna get away unscathed. ;)
Creampuff - He's sorta fine ... for now. :) I think I can safely say that Ko-Ko pretty much ruined the moment(?) between these two, but don't worry, there'll be more in the future.
Gentleflam51 - This is what happened next. Hope you liked it! :)
Azaba - Aww, thanks ever so much for the warm compliments, friend. *Glomps* I'm having fun writing about Erron and exploring other aspects of his personality, and digging into his past is just as interesting (I feel bad for him in this chapter, though). He's my second fave charrie after Jin, but I think I make fun of him waaay too much at times *grabs bonus points*. :)
Sorry for posting this chapter months after the second one - exams, Christmas and uni being a monster this year virtually kept me away from finishing this chapter off, so hopefully the length made up for it. Thank you for waiting patiently, and again a big thank-you to everyone for the reviews, faves and follows. :) Expect Chapter 3 for Past The Point Of No Return to come out some time soon. Chapter 4 for this lil' story will make its way on here in due time; expect the Shaolin monk to actually say something when SG returns.
Reviews are welcome!
*~AI07~* :)