Raiden’s blood drips from his lips and splashes soundlessly is the smokey mist of Shao Kahn’s throne room floor. Raiden’s eyes winsed in agony. ” That,” Mocked Shao Kohn, ” Is what you pathetic mortals, call pain. Get used to it Raiden. There will be more to come. ” A coy smile arose behind the bones which covered him. Raiden clenched his fists and bit down hard, he didn’t want Shao Kohn to know his pain, to know that his tactics could very well break the once proud thunder god. He raised his eyes to meet his enemies, but in the darkness he could only see the skeletal mask that hides the amusement of his attacker.
“Ah, Lord Raiden, is that a tear on your cheek?” Mocked the hated emperor. “Allow me to get that for you!” he said as he brought his hand up and crashed it down onto his adversary. Raiden collapsed back into the mist. Now he could see the blood which has spilled from him. The thought of him bleeding, made him instantly think about Kung Lao and his friends. “Did they bleed in their deaths? Did they suffer? Was it quick…” Raiden understood why Kung Lao protected his friends vigerously. It wasn’t a job he realized… but a passion. A bond. A bond Raiden understood at a time he couldn’t help.
Back at the trading post, a small secht of six Outworld solders, led by Baraka were scouring the seemingly endless crates and containers looking for anything useful that they could present to their emperor as a tribute. ” Master Baraka,” hissed a grunt. ” There is nothing to be found in this dump. Perhaps we should move to a different location?” Baraka walked around the sandy training area. His eyes were accustomed to the now purplish aura that the sky was and he was able to see all in absolute. “Perhaps, you can’t find anything, because this place is a mess. Hard to find something if you destroy stuff in the process. You vermin. Now get out of my site, go guard the door. Take him with you.” Baraka barked as he pointed to another grunt close by. He walked up the small steps up to the dinning room. He smelled around and smiled. “Ahh, my favorite smell… Chicken soup… and mortal death.” but the grin on his jagged teeth filled mouth turned into an open mouth look of amazement.
Infront of him, one of his grunts was holding a small orange glowing piece of metal. The design was familiar to him, but he couldn’t make it out with the angle he was at. He took long steps to get to his warrior, just to see the treasure at which he held, then he stopped in his tracks. “The amulet of the mortal kombat champion!” He roared in an outworldish cry. “Give it to me now! The emperor will be pleased and reward me greatly when I hand him this tribute!” He stuck out his hand. The grunt couldn’t even take his eyes off the precious medallion. He crooked his lips to the side towards baraka but didn’t make eye contact, and he uttered. “No.”
“What did you say to me you peon!” Baraka barked as he withdrew his hand. “Give it to me or suffer my wrath…!” he was interupted by a the front wooden door opening slowly. He and all the other grunts looked cautiously. “This had better be important to disrupt a direct order…” before him lay the two grunts he sent out, dead. Not by weapons front what he could tell. He looked at the other four grunts. “Go check it out.” as the grunts started to leave he stopped the one with the medallion by sticking his knuckles to the grunts chest. “You wont disobey me again.” And without warning his arm swords came out cleaving into the grunts flesh. The grunt let out a shriek, and slid off of the blade, and plummited to the dusty floor. Baraka bent over and investigated his hand, and peeled the medallion out of them. “Thank you.” He smiled.
The remaining grunts went outside, slowly walking past the corpses of their bretheren. Their faces grimmaced with fear and anger. They started hearing sounds all around them. “We are surrounded…” one said. They all got ready and braced themselves for the worst to come. So many sounds around them, they easily got confused. “There must be 20 of them! We are done for!” The sounds got closer and closer. Sweat started searing down them, their eyes wide with anticipation, and fear. Baraka stepped outside confidently. “What are you worms worried about! We out outworld warriors. No mere earthrealm people could harm us!” He hissed confidently.
The wind started picking up vigerously. Swirling debre and items all over the bazzaar. The wind was starting to push the grunts back a little, but baraka stood his ground, eager to see what dared challenge him, but just as quickly as it started, the wind had stopped. The four outworld warriors looked around impatiently. Waiting for someone, or something to appear. They didn’t have to wait long. A figure emerged from the risen dust and debre. The figure was a well built man, with long silverish hair reaching down to behind his knee that was in a ponytail. His eyes glowed white like raidens, but didn’t shine as bright.
The man looked in disdain at the outworld inhabitants. “Who dares enter earthrealm without the victory of Mortal Kombat!” he roared. One of the grunts felt cocky. “Earthrealm now belongs to Shao Kohn! Move fool or suffer our wrath in his name!” The man stood there and looked at his opponiates. “Fujin… you wont get far! If we don’t kill you, the emperor will! If he was able to kill Raiden then he will easily kill the… BACKUP defender of earthrealm!” baraka barked.
Fujin smirked. Lord Raiden is not dead yet. If I know your master he will be busy torturing Raiden for as long as possible. And I am well aware I can’t beat Shao Kohn alone, but killing you will make him lose some sleep!” The wind started to pick up behind him, slinging him closer to his enemies. They didn’t have time to prepare, Fujin was already on them. A vortex of wind started to encircle them. Baraka barked as one by one the vortex swept up his only back up. Their screams of terror and pain echoing savagely, then silencing as quickly as the echo started. Baraka unsheathed his blades and started circling within the ring of the vortex.
“Behind you Baraka.” Fujin yelled over the sound of the howling wind. Baraka turned sharply and saw Fujin and gnawed as his lips in fear. “Baraka, I will pass judgement on any one from outworld who steps foot in this realm. And you don’t belong. So prepare to feel the wrath on the god of wind!” Baraka charged at him wildly. Swinging and slashing, kicking and howling. Missing completely every time. Fujin was much to fast for him. A small faint glow caught Fujin’s eye immediately. It was coming from Baraka’s pocket. “Maybe thats why I was drawn here…” he thought. Instantly Fujin vanished and the vortex with him.
Baraka looked around in confusement. “Where did you go wind GOD!?” he yelled. He felt a bit lighter. He searched in his pocket to reveal what he feared. His treasure was gone. The Mortal Kombat Medallion was no longer with him. He howled at the sky in anger.